Don't Fear the Reaper: The Fifth Quell
by Max Alleyne
Summary: It's the fifth Quarter Quell, the tributes have been chosen, and there are surprises in store.
1. Intro: Unstoppable

**Ah, yes. It is another of everyone's favorite genre: the submit-a-tribute. I've seen a lot of people doing them and think they look like fun, so I thought I'd give it a try. The tribute form is below, and I'm sure that at this point everyone has seen FoalyWinsForever's advice on how to keep your tribute from being a colossal suebute. If not, check it out. It's also immensely entertaining. I have already had requests for both District 1 tributes, and the little sample below is written in the female's POV. I always want to get a hint of a writer's style before submitting a tribute into their hands, so there's a peek for you. **

As I walk out of the training center—sorry, "community center" because we're not allowed to train for the Games—the sun is scorching hot and nearly blinding, which does not help me at all. I'm still sweating profusely from my work out, and I can feel droplets trickling down the sides of my face. Before I can be blinded by both sun and sweat, I wipe my face on my sleeve and duck into the shade. Beside me, Azure is still trying to catch his breath, which gives me a certain sense of satisfaction.

"You only did ten miles today and you're still winded," I say, smiling smugly at him. "You've got to work on your cardio."

"Yeah, well, you've still got to work on strength training. Glamour bench pressed ten more pounds than you," he answers, equally as smug. Part of me was hoping that he hadn't noticed that, but it's probably best that he did. Now he'll push me harder. There's only a week until the reaping, and if I'm called, I won't be outdone by some tribute from another district—or this one, for that matter. I know Azure feels the same way, which makes us perfect training partners.

"Hand-to-hand and weapons tonight?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"We did throwing knives yesterday. Blow darts and bows tonight?" he answers, not bothering with a time or place because we both already know the answer. His parents have a large outbuilding behind their house that we use for training, which gives us plenty of privacy both from our families and from the rest of the prying eyes in the district.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'd like to work on my grappling, too."

He nods. That's another good thing about Azure. He treats me like a guy—well, I mean, in training. I know that he isn't going to hold back because he's afraid of hurting me or because I'm a girl—woman. He understands that if I go into that arena, no one else in there is going to have mercy on me because I'm female. In there, I would be up against guys and girls who are ready to tear me apart in any way possible. So when we train—be it sparring, weapons, or physical conditioning—we go all out. I can't remember the number of times we've had to make up each other's bruises.

"Alright, then. I'll see you tonight." He accompanies his farewell with a pop on the ass, and roll my eyes. Oh, Azure.

The rest of the day seems to pass so incredibly slowly. Even the gemstones that I appraise, which normally would hold my attention, are boring. My dinner table chat with Mom and Dad isn't as dull as I had expected it to be, mostly because they asked me about my training. When I tell them that I'm meeting Azure to work on hand-to-hand combat, they glance knowingly at each other and tell me to please be careful. I don't bother to remind them that I'll be eighteen next week and very nearly an adult.

I don't think that they're really all that happy when their daughter comes home and has bruises all over her. No matter how many times I try to explain to them that this is my best chance at surviving if I'm chosen, they've never really approved of my training with Azure. I wonder what they would say if they saw some of the bruises that I've given him?

When I show up, I know it's going to be a rough session. "Hey, Tinny. Come into my parlor," he says with a smirk.

"Said the spider to the fly. And it's Satin, not Tinny," I correct.

And then we're sparring. I don't have time to think about much of anything, just react. He knocks me off balance, and then I'm flat on my back and he's on top of me. Before he has time to get situated, I buck my hips and throw him off balance, using the momentum to roll on top. Before he knows what hit him, I've got him in a blood choke.

"Who's the spider now?" I whisper playfully into his ear.

And that was a mistake. I've brought myself into headbutt range, and he hits me square in the forehead. Plain flashes through my skull and then we're off again, rolling around on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

By the time all is said and done, I have choked him out three times, more than I ever have before. Usually, we're a little more neck and neck in our sparring, because while he has the weight and height advantage, I'm quicker and better at slipping out of his grip. My satisfaction at beating him in sparring soothes the burn of seeing that he's better than me with blow darts. We're dead equal with the bow.

As we head back inside from our improvised archery range, I know that we're both probably going to need a long, hot shower to work the soreness out of our muscles. This session is by far our most intense session, and I know that we'll both have more than a few new bruises in the morning. But my heart is pounding, the adrenaline rushing, and I just can't bring myself to care.

"That was fun," I say, sitting on the floor to stretch. Azure sits beside me, though I can tell from his careful posture that he's already feeling the soreness.

"For you , maybe. I'll be lucky if these bruises fade in time for the reaping," he replies, though there is humor and a hint of pride in his voice. After all the times that he's beaten me, he's letting me savor the moment.

"Why worry? They make you look dangerous."

"_Look _dangerous? I am dangerous, thank you very much. I can kill someone with my bare hands. I am dangerous," he says with mock indignation.

"Keep fighting like you did with me, and you'll be getting killed by someone else's bare hands," I tease.

"No," he answers, affectionately smacking my ass as I bend over into a stretch. "You were fierce. Tonight, you weren't going to be denied. Take that into the arena with you, and you'll be unstoppable."

"Unstoppable, huh?" I whisper, pushing him to the ground and climbing on top of him. I squeeze my thighs around his ribs, and immediately he tries to dig his elbows into the pressure point in my thighs. I stop him with a quick, hard blow to the neck, purposefully missing the point that would do any real damage.

The sound that crosses his lips is a cross between a cry of pain and a laugh. When he throws back his head and laughs, he is breathtakingly beautiful.

"You missed the nerve."

"I meant to. The reaping isn't until next week, so I'll need your pretty ass to train with."

"Shower?"

I don't have to answer because he already knows, the same way he already knew about training. I know that both of us like our fun, and that if I were to stop sleeping with him—or if he were to stop sleeping with me—our relationship wouldn't change. What makes us work is that we push each other, that we understand each other's limits, and that we understand that nothing is personal. Everything is to prepare us in case we go into the arena.

Because of Azure, I, Satin Glossamer, will be unstoppable.

**So, there you have it. A hint of how I write. I would like to be able to write in the tributes' points of view, which means that I will only accept 12 at the most, and I'll accept the ones that I think are the most realistic and fleshed out. If you want to submit a bloodbath character, that is dandy, just be sure to designate them as BB. Also, please give me some males. I know that like, 99.9% of this site is female, but we do need some testosterone every now and again. **

**And finally, just a few things about me and my feelings on tributes. I love a good mix of tributes: pretty ones, average-looking ones, and less-than-average ones. I'm not saying that they have to look like Edith Sitwell (**look her up and you'll know what I mean. She's like a glorious ostrich in a turban.**) but there is something very interesting about someone who has a face that doesn't quite fit together right. Also, please remember that not all characters can have a romance. I mean, I'm open to them when I submit tributes, too, but please please don't shoot me if yours doesn't end up with a romance. **

**And I think that's all. So please, shoot me a PM with you tribute info and let the games begin. **

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Gender:**

**District:**

**Appearance:**

**Personality: **(A string of adjectives does not a personality make)

**History/Background/other various relevant information:**

**Family/Friends:**

**Strengths/Weapon of choice: **(and remember that not all tributes can be invincible.)

**Weaknesses: **

**Career?:**

**Chosen or volunteered:**

**Token (optional): **

**Romance/Alliance:**

**What song would be playing when your tribute was introduced to the audience?:** (This is to help me find some mood and tone for them. For example, a character that enters to Rosemary Clooney's "Dream a Little Dream of Me" is going to vastly different from a character than enters to AC/DC's "Hell's Bells" or "You Shook Me All Night Long")

**So, there it is. Create a tribute, have fun, and **(as all of these things _must _end) **may the odds be _ever _in your favor!**


	2. D1:Ah, Don't Be Afraid

**Author's Note: I got a pretty amazing turnout, which I wasn't really expecting. I lied in my earlier posting of this chapter. I am still accepting tributes because I want lots of well-written characters to play with. So, see the bottom for the tributes I've accepted and the openings available, and a few more questions that I would like y'all to answer for me. This chapter is from the POV of the other District 1 tribute. I would really love it if you could give me some feedback on style, voice and mood, because I'm going to try to make each character's voice distinct, and it would be really great to have some feedback on whether or not I'm succeeding. **

Generally, reaping day makes a lot of people nervous, and understandably so. There is the potential for nasty, bloody death in the arena, and here, there are people tripping over each other—and themselves—to get in there and show everyone what they're made of. Me, I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm tripping over myself to go, not really. There's an unspoken rule among us that has made it perfectly clear that the male spot is _mine_. It's my last year to compete, and all the other guys know this. They all know that I'm our best chance at having a District 1 victor this year.

So no, I'm not really all that nervous.

Of course, some of that might have to do with the fact that I'm waking up with a beautiful girl in bed with me. She's tucked up against my side, her head snuggled into the side of my neck. Her red hair—and yes, it's natural; the carpet matches the drapes—is fanned across my neck and chest, and tickles every time she moves. One long, muscular leg is thrown across mine, warm and strong. Part of me wants to leave her like this, but its reaping day, and we've got to get moving.

"Alright, rise and shine," I whisper into her ear. The small, sleepy smile spreading across her face tells me that she has definitely heard me. That's her, "I don't want to get out of bed yet" smile. When she doesn't move, I kiss her gently behind her ear in that one spot that I know will make her go crazy. It works, and her eyes shoot open, wide awake. "I'll race you to the shower."

"I can't," she says, kissing me softly on the cheek. Apparently, she has decided that that one light kiss wasn't enough—not that I'm complaining—and kisses me again. My body is responding to her—I am a man, after all, and we have needs—and I know that if I don't get us out of the bed right now, we're going to be here for a while.

"I can't," she whispers again. "Mom and Dad are waiting for me, and they're going to be pissed."

"C'mon, Tinny. Today, I could be going off to a violent, bloody death. These could be our last hours together, and you're going to leave me like this?" I ask, gesturing to the tent in the sheets around my midsection.

"Oh, please. Death doesn't want you, you scoundrel," she answers with a mischievous grin. But she kisses me one more time before climbing out of bed. Seeing her naked is definitely not helping me with my little—not little—problem and she knows it. Before she can get too far away, I pop her once on the ass and let her get dressed.

"You're such an ass man, Azure. You don't even care about my rack—"

"I do care about your rack. It's nice-but I'm more of an ass man." She snorts as I refer to myself as a man. Of course she would. It figures.

"What? I am a man. I am a big, strong, manly man-"

"Go get in the shower. I suggest a cold one. I'll see you at the reaping."

And then she's gone. That's the great thing about Tinny: she can take a joke, she trains like a man, and for the most part, we're a good match. She pushes me and I push her. In all the years that we've been training partners, she has made me a better tribute than anyone else. I wasn't lying when I told her that she would be unstoppable in the arena next year. And because of her, I'm going to be unstoppable this year. She's pretty awesome like that. Like, one of the guys…that I can sleep with.

Well, not exactly. I know that at the reaping this afternoon, her parents are going to be shooting me the death glare for keeping her here last night—though they really should be blaming my parents. After all, what kind of parent lets their son's female sparring partner stay the night…in his bedroom? Not that I'm not grateful, because I am. I totally am. But if she were just one of the guys, there wouldn't be that whole parent problem. I don't think that they understand that she likes our non-committed, non-romantic, non-relationship that we have going.

And sure enough, I'm right. Her parents are shooting me the death glare when I turn up at the reaping and take my place with the other eighteen boys. Tinny—sorry, Satin—takes her place with the seventeen girls, and looks fantastic. She says that she doesn't like it when I call her that, but Satin just doesn't suit her. She's a little too rough and tumble for the name, but I'm guess that Wool or Spandex wouldn't have been quiet as impressive.

Nero Tiffenwell—our escort—takes the stage, all done up for the reaping and looking completely ridiculous. He's got flowers coming out that thing on his head—I think it used to be a hat—and he's got on what appears to be a velvet cape. Really? A cape? This is the reapings, dumbass, not the opera. I try to tune him out as he tells the story of why the Hunger Games got started. I don't think that anyone really cares anymore why they're going; now people are just afraid of them. Well, unless you're like me, and then you look forward to them with what might be an inappropriate amount of anticipation.

"Ladies first!" he cries, just like he does _every year. _"Our first tribute is Sparkle Coulter!"

A small girl pushes slowly through the crowd. What's taking so damn long—oh. As she mounts the stage, I see that her right side isn't moving the way that mine does. Her right arm and leg are small and shriveled, probably from not being used. The girl has a strained smile on her face as she stares out into the crowd. No one says anything, shocked into silence. It takes a lot to shock us in District 1, but even we know that someone disabled shouldn't be eligible.

"I volunteer. I'll take her place."

As soon as I hear the words, my stomach drops. _No. _This was supposed to be my year. It's my last year to compete, damnit, and she stole it from me. All that hard work, for nothing. The years and years of training are wasted. Anger courses hot and bitter through my veins.

As I watch Tinny take the stage, the rational part of me—which is pretty damn small right now—knows that I shouldn't be upset with her. She was doing the right thing; she's keeping that little girl from being slaughtered in the arena, but damnit, couldn't she have let someone else do it? Eventually someone would have stepped forward. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

"Tell us your name," Nero says.

"Satin Glossamer," she answers, her voice upbeat. I always thought that Tinny was training just in case she was chosen. I guess I was wrong. God, I feel like an idiot.

"And now, our male is going to be…Azure Kersting!"

I start laughing; I know it's inappropriate, but then manners have never really been my strong suit. What are the odds that this would happen? The guys are patting me on the back as I walk up to the stage, and I see Tinny with a smile on her face. To everyone else, it looks normal, but I can tell that she's wondering what the hell I'm laughing at. Now, the one time that I would actually want someone to volunteer, to take my place, is the one time that no one will. Because I'm so ready for this-everything but sickening development-no one will volunteer for me.

Then it hits her, and she's laughing, too. We've always been so damn perfect training together, and now, here we are, headed into the arena together. Fan-friggin'-tastic.

As I climb the stairs to the stage, she whispers, "I'm wishing I'd taken you up on that shower this morning."

"Me, too," I answer as I take her hand and they usher us into the justice building. "Me, too."

**And here it is, what you've all been waiting for...**

**Tribute List:**

**District 1- **Azure Kersting (M), Satin Glossamer (F)

**District 2-** Aim Mannon (M), Esther Vesnina (F)

**District 3-** Riden Snow (M)

**District 4- **Hadrian Helm (M), Skylar Ridged (F)

**District 5/6- **No tributes submitted. If you want to send in a bloodbath, that would be awesome.

**District 7- **No male submitted, Acacia "Ace" March (F)

**District 8- **Asher Barkley (M), Altheny "Ahlyce" Pham (F)

**District 9- **No male submitted, Cordelia "Cori" Harlow (F)

**District 10- **No male submitted, Brie Sacinas (F)

**District 11- **No male submitted, Charlotte Perry (F)

**District 12- **No male submitted, Lilly Bane (F)

**So, there you have it. There are still some openings and I would love to get some more ggood, well-thought out males. Speaking of sparing me work, I know this is probably going to be upsetting to some, but I'm not going to have sponsoring in this story because this is my first rodeo, so to speak, and I'm going to test this out, see how it goes, and if this goes well, I'll do another one with sponsoring in it. I know that I wouldn't have the time to devote to it being that involved, and I don't want to do anything half way. Sorry, guys! However, anyone who can tell me the title of the song that this story gets its name from will make my day and be exempt from falling prey to the first trap I have set in the arena. **

**Also, in case you haven't been able to tell, my style touches on some more adultish content with the older tributes, mostly because I think that in Panem 1) it's probably accepted and 2) these kids have grown up pretty fast whether they had happy childhoods or not, so the older ones probably are doing things that they should or should not be doing. But if it bothers you, let me know and I can tone it down. **

**That being said, here some more questions for you lucky tribute submitters to answer so that I can better get to know your characters. **

**Do they swear? Do they drink? **(I'm sure you've noticed that mine do, and I've no problem writing it that way. I think it's a way to show that they're a little rough around the edges. If they don't-and the young ones shouldn't-I am totally cool with that and will come up with some other creative linguistics for them.)

**How do they face impending death? **(Do they do the touching, eloquent "I forgive you for killing me" speech? Are they bitter? Do they say goodbye to their loved ones, knowing that they're watching? Do they pray? Be creative! I like to be surprised.)

**What do they believe in? (**Fate? God? Love? The world is random, people die, and that that's that?)

**Grief: how do they deal with it? **(Do they cry, shout obscenities, get angry, shut down, clam up, get silent and go on a killing spree, for example?)

**What is the happiest moment that they remember? **

**How do they feel about the Capitol? **

**Thanks for the feedback, keep it up, and may the odds be _ever _in your favor. **


	3. D2: The Music of Victors

**Author's Note: Thank you for everyone who reviewed the last chapter and sent in tributes. I'm going to write the reapings from one tribute's point of view. If your tribute isn's the one chosen for my reaping POV, don't worry. I will use them later for other secions, I promise. I just think that it is a little more realistic to do it this way, and I also think that switching points of view halfway through interrupts the flow of things. So here is the District 2 reapings. I hope you enjoy and please review! Please, tell me how you think I'm doing. **

**Also, I am a horrible person and left someone off my tribute list in the last chapter. Ithica Stone will be the female tribute from district 5. Sorry about that!**

**Aim Mannon**

_You can't hurt me with your lies_

_When they're plain before my eyes_

_I just can't bring myself to care_

_When I have a fistful of your hair_

_The way you feel beneath me_

_Filling all my needs…_

The loud, pounding baseline and strong guitar riffs jerk me from my dreams and back into the waking world. The shock of the music sends a thrill of excitement through me—the perfect way to start reaping day. Around the Games, there are always people who decided that they hate the Capitol, but no matter how much you hate them, you have to admit that they make damn good music. It's loud driving, music with lyrics vulgar enough to make my mother blush. But it's good. It's the music of victors.

The walls of my room are covered in sports posters that have been there since I was eleven and sports posters were the cool things to have. They're torn around the edges and the corners are worn and curling up with age, hand-me-downs from Ronove, who decided at the ripe old age of fourteen that he was too old for sports posters. Mixed in are posters of previous victors from District 2—all the guys, of course. When girls pose for photos, they're usually wearing next to nothing and my Mom would have a stroke if she saw naked women on my walls…which is why they're under my bed in a special box.

Even though the kitchen is all the way down the hall, I can smell breakfast cooking. Mom always makes a special breakfast on reaping day; we call it the Breakfast of Champions. She goes all out with everything she can get her hands on, even bacon, which can be hard to come by around here. I try to get dressed as quickly as I can, because if I'm late getting to breakfast Dad and Ronove will take all the bacon. Of course, they've already gotten their hands all over it by the time I get down there, so a snag a few pieces off their plates.

"Hey! That's mine!" Ronove says, trying to take his bacon back. Too bad I'm already out of reach. How sad.

"You gonna take it from me?" I ask lightly, arching an eyebrow. He knows that if he tried, I would win. But I also know that he isn't going to try because he really isn't that upset about it in the first place.

"He probably doesn't want it anymore after you've touched it," Dad says between mouthfuls of eggs. "Now sit down, Mr. Hotshot, and eat with the rest of us."

We talk about the same things that we would talk about on a normal morning. Dad tells me that my music was too loud this morning. Ronove is telling us about how his date went last night, and of course, we have to razz him about it because that's what family's for. Mom is talking about how the neighbor's kid got something stuck up his nose yesterday. By the time that we're done with breakfast, all of us are nearly rolling the floor laughing. My laugh is loud—a deep, belly laugh that shakes my entire body—and I'm laughing so hard my sides hurt.

And then Mom is taking away my breakfast dishes. I make my way back to my room and get dressed—complete with more loud music, of course. No morning around here would be complete without my music being too loud and someone complaining about it. I try to make my hair cooperate and lie flat, but instead it keeps spiking up a little in the front. Finally, I decide to leave it that way. It makes me look edgy.

At the reaping, people are all trying to look edgy. We're a career district, and nearly everyone has trained for this. I see some of my friends standing with the rest of the seventeens, laughing and patting each other on the back and talking about their training. Once the names are announced, there's sure to be a race to the stage to see who's going to be able to volunteer. Before I have time to talk to them, our escort, Lilah Pensworth, takes the stage.

"Alright, ladies first!" she says. Where did that rule even come from? I mean, I don't really care, but she says that every year and gets _old. _"Esther Vesnina!"

A tall, pale girl with long black hair makes her way to the stage from the eighteen section. She's pretty, with a cute little nose and some curves, and she looks vaguely familiar. Right. I've seen her around the training center with Enobaria. Enobaria was a victor well over fifty years ago, and even though she's turned into a wrinkly old woman, she knows her stuff. I remember the rumors that she had hand-picked this girl to train with her. She's always seemed quiet and a bit…sweet, but maybe Enobaria saw something I didn't. I guess we'll see how that goes.

Because she's Enobaria's choice and we all know it, no one steps forward to take her place. Of course, I'm wondering how she managed to get chosen in the first place—usually Careers like her would volunteer. It's probably some trickery on Enobaria's part. That woman may be old, but she's still sly.

"And our boy is…Nico Tispanali!" Lilah calls.

A small, light-featured kid from the group of fourteens. He's tall and skinny, and before he has even reached the stage, people are throwing up their hands to volunteer. Bad idea. Instead of waiting to be called on, I push through the crowd to the stage, and mount the steps. Lilah looks almost surprised, but she manages to cover it.

"And you are?" she asks.

I give her a small, neutral smile that just barely tugs at the corners of my lips. "Aim Mannon."

She doesn't bother to ask me if I'm volunteering, because she already knows. I just don't think anyone has done it in quite as calmly as I did. Lilah smiles at me and presents me to the audience as the male tribute for District 2. I'm going into the Games.

I shake hands with Esther, and my hand is nearly two times as big as hers. I can feel the rough calluses on her palms from training, and I wonder if maybe there is a hint of steel underneath all that sweetness. I'll just have to see. If there is, and even if there isn't, she might be a good ally in the arena.

"I'm Aim," I say to her, that small smile still on my face.

She smiles back at me, and it seems genuine. It isn't like some of my smiles—the ones that don't quite reach all the way to my eyes—but instead is a soft, kind smile. "I'm Esther."

And before we have a chance to say more, they're shuffling us into the Justice building to say our goodbyes to anyone who cares to come. My first visitors are my buddies, all of them jealous that they didn't think of just walking onto the stage. I just grin at them. "Better luck next year, boys."

Then Mom, Dad, and Ronove are there. Dad is clapping me on the back, so proud of me. Mom has tears in her eyes, like she just can't believe that her baby is all grown up. Ronove smiles and wishes me luck. I know that the Games aren't really his thing and that he doesn't pay attention to them, but this year, he will.

"Now make sure you watch your back in there," Dad says.

"I know, Dad."

"And be sure that you—"

"He knows, Dad," Ronove says, and I'm thankful. I know what my plan is. I've been waiting for this, and any extra advice right now is only going to be forgotten in the haze of adrenaline anyway.

"I love you. Stay safe, okay?" Mom finally says, kissing me gently on the cheek and pulling me into a hug.

"I will. I'll see you when I get home."


	4. D3: Hysterics

**Author's Note: So, here is another chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I know that everyone really only wants to see how their tribute is faring, but please try to pay attention to the others. There are some characteres that you're going to love and others that you're going to hate because, hey, every story has to have a villian...or eight. So anyway, please review and let me know how you feel able each of the characters and how they're being written. Feeback is always welcome!**

**Riden Snow**

"Riden, wake up!"

I roll over and open my eyes to find Evelyn standing beside my bed, smiling down at me. Of course, she's smiling at me. Of course she's here waking me up. I shouldn't be surprised. She knows that if she didn't come and get me, I would eat my usual breakfast of dry toast and drag myself to the reaping alone.

"Evelyn—"

"I told you, call me Evie," she interrupts, though her voice is shy.

"Evie, what are you doing here?"

She smiles a little, shy smile. "I couldn't let you spend reaping day all by yourself. Dad wants you to have breakfast with us."

Yeah, right. It's far more likely that he wanted her to stop asking if I could have breakfast with them, so he said yes. He likes me about as much as he would like a case of inflamed hemorrhoids, but for Evie's sake, he tolerates me.

"He let you walk all the way down here by yourself?" I ask. The streets around here can be rough, and Evie is too pretty to be safe. In her pristine white dress, she has "filthy rich" written all over her. Around here, she sticks out like a sore thumb, and she's lucky that she made it here without someone trying to jump her.

As soon as I see a twinge of hurt in her eyes, I realize that I sound angry. She thinks that I'm angry at her because she came to see me. That is not how I meant to sound. "I'm not mad at you. I just—it isn't safe for you to come see me by yourself. People aren't nice here."

"You are," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I'm really not very nice at all, but I don't bother to correct her. She probably—no, not probably, she is the only person in the world who thinks that I'm a nice guy. For whatever reason, I can't bring myself to disillusion her. Everybody needs someone to think they're okay, I guess.

I quickly run into the bathroom and slip into my reaping clothes. They look just like all my other clothes—all two outfits—just in different colors. When I come out, she's sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for me with that quiet smile on her face. I'm not sure that I've ever seen her frown.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

I grab my knife from under my pillow and tuck it into my pocket. If a peacekeeper were to catch me with a knife, it would be forty lashes in the square. The odds of me being attacked in this part of the district are fairly high, though, and I would rather carry the knife and be alive to receive the forty lashes than be dead. "Now I am."

When we walk to her house—a good two mile trip—we walk close enough to each other to ensure that no one is going to try to pick her up. With the way that some of the guys are staring at her, I'm surprised she made it to my place at all. One hard look from me has them stalking off, disappointed.

"Where have you been?" her father asks when we walk through her front door. Upon seeing me, he knows the answer. So much for him wanting me to have breakfast with them. "Right. Come on in, Riden."

Evie and her father are two of the richest people in the district, and their house shows it. My house—if you could call it that—would fit in their bathroom. But then it's just me living in my shack, so there's really no need for a lot of space.

Someone brings us breakfast, and it's a crazy assortment of jams and jellies for toast, sausage and eggs and ham and even strawberries. It's more food than I have ever seen in my entire life in one place. Evie and Gust dig in with no hesitation. It takes me just a minute to get over the sheer volume of food. This would feed me for a good week and half. But it is reading day, so I eat.

I know Gust isn't entirely thrilled about me being here, but Evie wants me here, and he would never tell her that there was anything she couldn't have. The first time that she brought me home, I thought he was going to call the peacekeepers, like I was trying to kill her or something. It was only after she explained that I was a classmate that he put down the phone.

Even now, the only thing we really agree on is that Evie has to be protected. She is far too trusting, and not everyone in the world is as good as she is. I think he finally stopped grinding his teeth every time he saw me when I busted my knuckles on a guy who was trying to grope her. Now he finds me bearable.

When it's time for the reaping, we walk together to the square, and I know that I look out of place. She's wearing her pretty white dress; her father is wearing a nice blue suit, and I just look average. Average height, average weight—well, a little skinnier than most, maybe—wearing the average slightly dirty clothes of our district. But I can see people's expressions as I walk up with Evie and her father, and there is a hint of respect in their eyes. Yeah, respect. I smile smugly as I take my place with the other eighteen year olds. Evie stands with the other seventeens, and I hope like hell that she isn't chosen.

Our escort takes the stage—Emeril Smytheson—and gives a long spiel about why we have the Hunger Games, just in case we'd forgotten since last year. Then he utters that awful line that he says every year—"Ladies first!"

"Our female tribute is… Aliss Tonkin!"

It isn't Evie. Good. I'm looking around, but I can't find the girl that he called. I hear a loud, ear-splitting scream and realize that it must be one of the younger ones that was chosen. Their families are usually the only ones that get hysterical. By the time you're older, your family has made peace with the fact that you could be chosen. Or, I image that they do. I wouldn't really know.

We're all still waiting for Aliss to take the stage when finally the peacekeepers usher a small, round-faced girl to the stage. She has to be at least 12, but she doesn't look a day older than nine. I can see the bones in her wrists sticking out of her dramatically skinny arms and realize that she must be from one of the poorer families in the district—one of those with too many kids and not enough money. As they push her onto the stage, I keep waiting for her to snap in half.

"Come on up, Aliss," Emeril says. "Don't be shy."

She just sort of stands there, crying. Her face is red and blotchy, snot dripping from her nose. No, there is no way that this could be an act—those are real tears. She doesn't even acknowledge Emeril. Her family is still hysterical, and I really wish that they would all just stop. It's hurting my ears.

"And our male tribute is…Riden Snow!"

At first, I'm not really sure that I've heard him right over the hysterics of Aliss's family, but then he says my name again and I'm sure. Slowly, I make my way to the stage, and feel everyone's eyes on me as I go. They're wondering if I'm going to be like Aliss, if my family is going to be hysterical.

When I try to shake Aliss's hand, she doesn't move, and it seems like the crying only gets louder. I try to imagine that those sounds are my family crying for me, but I can't forget that they're dead, I'm alone, and no one will miss me if I die. But then I see Evie with tears on her cheeks. She's crying for me.

She'll miss me, I realize.

When they take us to the Justice Building, Evie and Gust come in to see me. She's crying harder and buries her face in the front of my shirt—something she's never done before. I expect Gust to look angry, but he doesn't seem to care. He almost looks a little sad.

"What are you going to do?" she asks me.

I think over my schooling and my work in the factories, and realize that I might actually have a slight chance—I up my odds to 1 out of 23 because Aliss doesn't really count. I have some skills; maybe I'll last a while.

"I'll fight. Try to stay alive," I answer.

"Good. Take this." She slips a little locket into my hand. I'm not really sure what good it will do me in the arena, but I hold onto it, just because she wants me to have it. The chain is too short and feminine to go around my neck, so I wrap it twice around my wrist instead.

Realizing that our time is almost up, she gives me quick kiss on the cheek. Her face turns bright red as she looks over at her father, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he looks at me with something unreadable in his eyes.

"Take care of yourself, kid," he says.

I just nod. "Yeah. I'll try."


	5. D4: Look After Yourself

**Author's Note: So, here are the District 4 reapings. I'm going to go ahead and warn you, this chapter is a little bit odd, and I'm kind of anxious about it, so feedback would be awesome. The biggest problem with a SYOC story is that the profile you give to the writer is really just a starting point, and sometimes our heads take little things and twist them into something new, which can be a risk. But anyway, feedback would be awesome. **

**Hadrian Helm**

"Hurry up, asswipe, I need to get in the shower!"

I take one final drag on my joint before stubbing it out and tossing it out the open bathroom window. There smell is still strong, and I know that the minute I open the door, Rowan is going to be able to smell it. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. I wrap a towel around my waist and open the door. Sure enough, there's Rowan, standing there with his hands on his hips and an impatient frown on his face. Oh, Mom would be so proud to know that at least one of her boys had gotten some of her habits. I'm not really sure why he's in such a hurry to get in the shower; he's too old to be eligible anymore, so it's not like he has to worry about impressing anyone. Oh well.

He takes one sniff and a look of recognition crosses his face. "Do you have to smoke your dope in the bathroom? That's what the roof is for," he says. He isn't disapproving of the smoking—I know he's done it a couple of times—just the fact that it's in the bathroom. "You better not have used up all the hot water," he threatens.

"Jeez, Rowan. When did you turn into such a woman?" I ask teasingly as I push past him. He rolls his eyes and shuts the door behind him. Down the hallway, I can hear the dull _thud _of a weapon embedding itself in the wall. If I were a betting man, I would say it's a knife. The sound isn't loud enough to something heavy, and Dad has put a ban on any throwing large weapons in the house. Mom got really pissed last time Odern broke her lamp with a trident.

When I walk into the room I share with my little brother, Odern, and see that I was right. A small knife is embedded in the wall in the middle of a shirt that has been tacked up for practice. Odern and Ewan are studying it, both looking pleased. Well, until they notice that I've walked in, and then Odern's eyes widen in…fear? That's when I realize that the shirt he's been using is the one that I laid out for the reaping. Well, damn.

"Really? You really used my shirt for target practice?"

He nods nervously. He's only 12 and barely half my size, so if I decided to, I could snap him in half. But he's just a kid, and Ewan—who's bigger and older than me—is standing right there. Two against one does not put the odds in my favor, and Odern's the baby of the family so I would just get in bigger trouble. Then again, we wouldn't do any real damage. We've been wrestling each other since we were old enough to walk. And hey, it's only a shirt and I've got a dozen more, so I wave it off and pull another one out of the closet. Odern looks at Ewan, who makes a "he's been smoking" gesture when he thinks I'm not looking.

"I saw that," I say with a laugh.

"What you gonna do about it?" Ewan asks. Under the question is a hint of a challenge—a playful one—but I don't really feel like it right now.

"Not a damn thing. Now get out so I can get dressed. Oh, and Ewan, I'm warning you now. Rowan's having a bitch morning, so beware the cloud of estrogen in your room."

He laughs and takes Odern so I can get dressed. There's really no sense in trying to get my hair to cooperate, because every time I try I doesn't work. It just falls around my face in a shaggy mass of copper. So I just shake it around and get the extra water out before I pull on my pants and shirt.

I don't really pick out any special clothes. People dress up because they have an image that they want to present to the world, and the minute I smile, mine is made for me. Instead of having normal, pretty teeth like everyone else, I have a mouthful of metal thanks to an accident with a stool as a kid. Knocked out every single damn tooth I had. So now I have a mouth full of metal, and a smile that will never be gorgeous. It might be cute or fierce or threatening if I tried (or even if I don't try), but never normal.

In the kitchen, Dad is helping Mom make breakfast while Ewan shows Odern some wrestling moves. Every time they get remotely close to anything of value, Mom tenses and asks them to take it outside. They don't. We never do.

One sniff as I walk by tells both of my parents what exactly I was doing in the bathroom earlier, but they don't scold me. Not in front of Odern. They never bring up this sort of thing in front of him; he's the baby and has to be protected. Of course, he has three older brothers, and we've always looked out for each other. But then, if we baby him all the time, he's never going to grow up. Every time I try to tell someone this, they just look at me like I'm kind of crazy. It's probably because the only time I ever say things like that is after an extended session in the bathroom like the one I had this morning.

While they finish breakfast, I watch Odern and Ewan on the floor. They're rolling around on the floor laughing and then they're staring at me, studying me like they're trying to find my weaknesses. They looking angry, like they know that I think Odern is too pampered—

"I know I'm good looking, but you guys really shouldn't be staring," I say. But they haven't heard me. They're wrestling again like they hadn't stopped. I blink a few times, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I'm not really sure what it was, but I don't like it. At breakfast it happens again. Rowan and Mom are eating their breakfasts, and then the next minute, they're staring at me. It makes me nervous and I know that I'm laughing a bit too loud at Dad's jokes, but I don't really care.

"Are you alright?" Ewan asks, staring at me like he's trying to figure out a puzzle.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Thanks for asking fuc—"

"Boys, no swearing at the table!" Mom says, looking disapprovingly at me. It's okay if we do, just not at the table.

Dad seems to realize that something has put me on edge. I mean, I'm usually a pretty chill guy as people go. On the way to the reaping, he claps me on the shoulder. "I don't know why you're nervous, son. You don't really have to worry. If you get chosen, you're going to fine."

It's nice to hear the vote of confidence in his voice. Yeah, I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be more than fine. If I get chosen, I'm going to kick ass. The thought puts a smile on my face as I take my place next to Riley, my best friend, and the other seventeens. He's smiling, but I can tell he's anxious about the reaping. He's a great guy, but he's never really been very lucky.

Our escort, Hera Singer, takes the stage and starts to tell the story of how the Games got started. I've heard it a million times before, so I don't pay attention. Instead, I'm looking over at where the rest of my family is standing—near the twelves with Odern. Mom is looking at me, an encouraging smile on her face. Gone is the mother who was studying me so harshly earlier. Her encouragement brings a smile to my face.

"Ladies first," Hera says. "Our first tribute is…Melly Stoker!"

Melly Stoker smiles and makes her way up the stage from where she's standing with the eighteens. Then, as soon as she reaches the stage, a single voice rings out.

"I volunteer!"

Melly looks disappointed. More than disappointed; she looks heartbroken. She's eighteen, so she doesn't have another chance to play in the Games. This was her last year. I half expect her to wrap her hands around the volunteer's throat and strangle the smile right off her face, but she doesn't. Instead, she steps down, shooting the volunteer the look of death.

"What's your name?" Hera asks the girl. She's got long brown hair and tanned skin. But then, most everyone in this district has tanned skin—all that time near the water under the sun. She's about medium height with pretty, toned legs.

"Skylar Ridged."

"Well, let's give Skylar a round of applause!"

There's some polite clapping, and Skylar looks proud enough to bust. She's clearly one of those who has been training for this all her life. I can't judge, because I am too, but she looks like she would have way too much fun in that arena, like watching heads roll is her cup of tea.

"And our male tribute is…Odern Helm!"

Odern. Of all of us to get chosen, it would be Odern. The smallest, most sheltered of all of us is the one to get chosen. Well, damn. I look around and see people staring at me, like they heard what I was thinking, like they know that I think Odern is going to get his ass killed in the games. Odern is mounting the stage, and everyone else is staring at me expecting something. Boys and girl, men and women that I've never seen before—who don't know me—are staring at me. Riley is staring at me, angry. Riley's never angry. What's going on?

And then Mom is there. She's grabbing my shoulder, shaking me. "You get up there and you volunteer for your brother, do you understand me? If you don't, don't ever expect to back into my house again. He's going to get himself killed in the Games, and I don't want my favorite not coming home—"

And then to stop her from talking, I'm running towards the stage, shouting. "I volunteer! I'll take his place!"

Odern looks shocked, and he's shaking his head. "No, Hadrian! You can't."

But then Hera is by my side, asking me my name. I tell her, I tell all of District 4 and Panem that my name is Hadrian Helm. At the back, I can see my mom, tears or worry streaming down her cheeks. Rowan and Ewan have their arms around Odern, who looks almost guilty—like this is his fault. Dad is the only one who has a little smile on his face, trying to encourage me.

And then they're shuffling me and Skylar into the Justice building. In the room, my whole family comes to say their farewells. Odern is still crying, and I'm wondering if I just imagined him scowling at me earlier.

"Why did you do that?" Odern asks, throwing his arms around me.

"Mom said I ha—" But then I see that they all have no idea what I'm talking about. Didn't they see? How could they have not seen?

"You're going to be fine, Hadrian. You've trained for this, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. Just stay calm, don't do anything stupid, and you'll be fine," Rowan says, patting me on the shoulder. He really does believe what he's saying, too. And he seems so proud. But earlier he was…

"Try to get ahold of something that's going to give you some distance. Tridents, spears, that kind of thing. And make sure that you find water. Make water a priority. Do that, and you'll do great," Ewan encourages me, giving me a one-armed hug.

"Do your best, and you'll win. I know you can. I love you," Mom whispers. She pulls me close in a gentle, motherly hug. No, this woman couldn't have said those things. "You look after yourself, okay?"

"I don't know why we're worried. Hadrian's the best fighter out of all of us," Rowan's saying.

"Damn straight. You're not going to get rid of me that easy, you bastard," I tell them with a smile. They all laugh, even Mom, when I call him a bastard. If I can still playfully insult my brothers, it means that nothing has changed and that everything is going to be okay. They all give me one last hug and are gone. All except Dad.

"Hadrian, I need you to listen to me, okay?" I nod. "Your mother and I…we let you get away with the smoking because you're a good kid. You don't get in too much trouble, you train hard, and you love your family. And this family loves you. We want you to come back to us, and that means no more drugs. From this minute on, you have to be sober, do you understand?"

Was it really just this morning that I was smoking a joint in our bathroom? I guess so. But yeah, I understand. Drugs mean carelessness, and carelessness means death.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now go get 'em."


	6. D5: Already Forgotten

**Thanks to those of you who reviewed. I know that this isn't a sponsor fic, so maybe that's what's up with the lack of reviews, but they would still be nice. Feedback is always good. Anyway, at the end of the chapter is some more questions for you to answer about your tributes if you submitted them. Please review and let me know what you think of the chapter and to tell me more about your tribute!**

**Ithica Stone**

My neck aches and my muscles are cramping from head to toe. Not exactly how I wanted to wake up on reaping day, but whatever. It's really too late to do anything about it now. I can see light peeking under the crack in the door and wonder what time it is. I know I haven't slept through the reapings because, well, my luck just isn't that great. Of course, I'm not really helping things by falling asleep in a damn wardrobe, either, so I guess some of it is my fault. Maybe just a little.

When I climb out of the wardrobe, I realize that I'm the first one awake. Usually, my mother is the first one awake, and she starts to brew the tea and make breakfast downstairs. Then my dad gets up and gets ready to go to work. This morning, though, I'm the first awake. It's probably better this way. Now no one will ask me what I was doing sleeping in a wardrobe.

Let's face it, explaining that isn't something that most people have to do every day. It isn't something that most people have to do in their entire lifetime. But me, well…it happens far more often than it should, anyway. It isn't always the wardrobe. Sometimes it's under the bed or in the closet or in the tree outside. Once, I slept in a bathtub. But those places—especially the tree and the bathtub—aren't places where normal people sleep.

I know that I'm not a normal person. Most girls grow up dreaming about the man that they're going to marry or what their husband will look like. Me? I was always thinking about books. There's something about books—maybe it's the way that they're leather-bound, or the way that they smell. Maybe it's the gilt-edged pages with all the words on the page just begging to be read. But whatever the reason—my heart or my shoes—I've always loved books.

This love of books is a little bit inconvenient, I'll admit, considering that we're dirt poor and can't really afford them. Usually, I can knick one from someone who has too many—they rarely ever notice that they're missing—or Lilac can get me some. Our library at school doesn't really have a lot of books, and I've read all of the ones that we did have at least three times. Lilac usually passes on the ones that she's finished with; some of them are good, some of them suck, and some of them—I think—might give me answers.

I'm not entirely sure what kind of answers I'm looking for. My mother is constantly reminding me that I can't ever find any answers if I don't know the questions, but I think she's wrong. I think—hope—that one day, I'm going to open up one of these books and find something that opens up the world for me. I've read about it happening, but it hasn't happened to me yet. No epiphanies, no sudden wisdom about the world. Not yet. But maybe, if I just keep looking, I'll find something.

Grabbing my favorite worn-out copy of an old book called _The Giving Tree _from the corner of the wardrobe, I head downstairs. We don't have a lot of furniture, and what we do have is worn out. Sometimes, I think this makes it a little more comfortable. I settle into an old, blue armchair by the window and start to read.

I've read the story a million times, and I know that I'm probably too old for it at this point—fifteen year olds aren't supposed to be reading children's books—but I don't care. The story confuses me because the tree keeps giving and giving and giving without getting anything in return. I don't understand why this is acceptable. Here, there's not enough extra to give and give and give without getting in return. Here, we do scientific research, so it's not like we all have crafts or skills that we can trade with one another. You can't offer to splice some DNA for your neighbor in exchange for a few apples.

I'm still pondering why the tree doesn't ask for anything in return when my mother comes down the stairs. She walks right past me without even noticing that I'm sitting in the chair; she doesn't ignore me on purpose. She's just so scatter-brained that she would lose her head if it wasn't attached to her shoulders. Just like she does every morning, she puts on the tea and starts breakfast for my father. A good fifteen minutes later, he comes down the stairs and says a quiet good morning to me.

"Ithica! I didn't even see you there, dear. Would you like some tea?" my mother asks.

"No thanks. I'll just have some toast." She nods and sets to making my toast, but after it's made, she starts to make me some tea as well. Oh well. A few moments later, she glances at the clock and realizes that my father should be at work. "You're late for work, dear!"

He smiles absently. "Today is reaping day. I don't have work," he reminds her gently.

"Of course, I knew that. Well, Ithica, I think that means that maybe you should go get dressed."

I take my tea and my toast and retreat to my room, where I quickly pull on my reaping clothes—a blue dress made soft from many wearings—and try to make myself presentable. I pull my dark hair out of my face, but that makes my scars seem more obvious, so I leave it all down and just brush it. They aren't huge, nasty scars—just thin ones that run from my jar to the side of my neck just behind my ear—but no one will ever tell me how I got them. Oh well.

My father knocks quietly on the door a few minutes later. "Your mother wants us to have breakfast together this morning."

"I would rather have it here," I answer bluntly, not bothering with preamble. We go through this every year. Mother always wants to have breakfast downstairs as a family, so we try it, and then she starts crying when she realizes that it is reaping day and she could lose her little girl. Then I remind her of all the times that she had lost her little girl—literally—and she gets even more upset. So, no, I don't really want to have breakfast downstairs. But I'm a good girl, so I do.

Sure enough, half way through breakfast, my mother starts to cry.

"Please stop crying, Mother. You do this every year and I'm not chosen," I say tiredly. Watching her cry is exhausting.

"You're my baby girl, and I can't stand the thought of losing you," she whimpers.

"You lost me at the market when I was five. You left me in a public bathroom when I was eight, and when I was eleven, I had to walk home from school after you forgot to come get me. You've been losing me all your life," I snap.

"Ithica! What a horrible thing to say!" my father says, horrified that I could say such a thing. Really? At this point, he should know better.

"Well it's the truth. She's been forgetting me all the time, and I'm fairly certain that if I were to get reaped, she would forget me by the time I reached the Capitol!"

This only makes her cry harder, so finally I just leave the dinner table and walk out the house. It isn't that much longer until the reapings anyway. I look up at the tree that I've hidden in several times, but decide not to climb it. They would look there.

My family isn't normal; I know this. My mother is far more forgetful than the average bear. Father says that she wasn't always this way, that she used to be young and vibrant. Well, I never knew that mother, so I can't really say that I have much sympathy for her. Now I think that my father is going to worry himself into an early grave over my mother. But whether she used to be better isn't the issue. The issue is that I can't trust my own parents, and that is inexcusable.

I get to the town square early and find Lilac waiting in the area for the fifteen year olds. I go to stand beside her, and she can tell already that I'm not the best of moods. Instead of asking what happened, she asks, "So, where did you sleep last night?"

"The wardrobe," I answer quietly.

"I thought so. The dark circles under your eyes have "wardrobe" written all over them. What happened this time?"

"My mother went on another rant about how it wasn't her fault that she nearly let the house burn down because she forgot the food in the oven. Sometimes I think she pulls this crap just to get attention. No one can really be that scatter-brained," I answer harshly.

"C'mon, Ithica. You know she's a screwed up lady. Probably for the same reason you've got those scars. Be nice to her," Lilac encourages me. I just snort and roll my eyes.

Finally, our escort—Koltrane Reerac—takes the stage. He looks ridiculous, as usual, as he struts about and tells the story of why we have the Games. No one is really listening; we're all just sitting around waiting for him to call the names so that we can sigh with relief because it isn't us.

"And our first tribute is…Ithica Stone!" he calls.

Ithica Stone. Well, damn. That would be me. Well, I'm assuming that I'm the only female Ithica Stone in District 5, which is a fairly safe assumption to make. Lilac is staring at me in horror, but I can't say anything to her. What is there to say? Well, that sucks and I'll see you in the afterlife? Yeah, doesn't really have a good ring to it.

I make my way to the stage, where Koltrane greets me with a smile. Then he pulls out a boy's name—Reardon Kilmore. Reardon comes from the thirteen year old section and all of District 5 knows that this year, they won't have a victor. They've got me—the scarred, crazy girl who sleeps in trees—and a tiny little whelp who looks like the wind would snap him in half. Great.

We're ushered into the Justice building, and Lilac comes to see me, promising to take care of my mother and look after my father. She offers her necklace to me as a token, but I decide to go with my lucky socks instead—they have DNA strands on them. After she leaves, my father comes. Apparently, my mother wandered off after the reapings.

I'm not even dead yet, and already, she's forgotten me.

* * *

**So, more tribute questions! Yay...or not. I don't know. **

**How do they feel about the whole beginning process of the Games (**interviews, chariot rides, etc**)?**

**What is the skill that they show the Gamemakers during private training? What is their attitude during their private training session? Do they directly address the Gamemakers or do they just do their talent and get out? **

**What do they wear during the chariot rides and interview? **

**How do they get along with their district partner?**

**Thanks for answering the questions so I can get to know the tributes even better. Also, please let me know how you're liking the characters so far! **


	7. D7: Ace in the Hole

**So, here is another chapter. I skipped the District Six reapings because I don't have any characters that y'all submitted from that district. If it's a big deal, let me know and I'll go back and fix it. Also, reviews are awesome. They are my sunshine on a cloudy day. They are metaphorical music to my ears. They make me more inclined to be nice to your tribute. So, review! And I like them because they let me know what's working in the story and what isn't. So let me know, okay? Okay. **

**Acacia "Ace" March**

I wake up early on reaping day. I'm probably the only one in the district to do so—most people take the day to sleep in. I can't. I don't have that luxury. Today is reaping day, and my last day to train before I'm off to the Capitol, where every move will be studied and analyzed under a damn microscope. Metaphorically, of course.

I grab my hatchet and my axe, pull on my shoes and go for a run. It's not the longest one I've ever done—only six miles—but it feels good. My heart rate is elevated but not pounding, and my breathing is harsh but still even—a sign that I could go longer if I wanted. But I have other things I want to do. I find a tree, and a few seconds later, I'm twenty feet off the ground. There are plenty of good strong branches, and I choose the best one to set up a lookout. Then I watch as the district comes to life.

Slowly, I see lights start to come on in the houses. It starts with one house and slowly spreads down the streets and across the district. Then people start to gradually emerge from their homes, all dressed in their Sunday best. There's a young couple walking hand-in-hand down the street—smiling and laughing as they go. They wouldn't be laughing so much if they knew how easy it would be to kill them. I have a perfect line of sight from where I am in the tree; all it would take is two quick throws. I would take him out first, burying my axe between his eyes. The girl would go second, my axe embedded in her throat.

I briefly consider making the throw—I'm so quick, I could probably escape before they figured out where the axes had come from—but I decide against it. It's just too easy, and there's no fun in that. Not to mention, there's a tiny chance that the Peacekeepers could get me before the reaping and that would be so _inconvenient. _

Dismounting the tree is just as easy as climbing it. That's the advantage of being in the lumber district—plenty of trees to practice climbing so that you grow up big and strong. And then there's also the fact that we don't name our kids ridiculous names like Argyle or Spandex. Last year, there was a tribute named Corduroy. We have normal names like Acacia and Laurel—

And there's also readily available weapons, assuming you know how the use an axe. I've had an axe in my hand since I was eight, and before that, it was a hatchet. By now an axe is almost a part of me—an extension of my will. If I decide that someone is going to die, they will—and my axe will be the one to do it. That's how it's going to end for that bitch from District 9.

When I return to my house, I find that it isn't empty. Naturally, I have my axe at the ready. My house is always empty; it has been since my father was killed last year. People ask me all the time if it's lonely. It isn't. You can only be lonely if you actually want company, and I never do.

This doesn't stop the well-wishers from trying, though. No, what stops them would be my strongly worded threats followed by a warning throw of my axe. Only it seems to have no effect on Charlie, my neighbor. I've nearly killed him more times than I can count, and for some reason unknown to me, he keeps coming back. I would say that it's like kicking a puppy dog, but eventually the puppy will stop coming around. Charlie doesn't seem to be that smart.

And of course, it's Charlie that is in my kitchen. He's not an unattractive guy, if you're into his type. I haven't been into romance since—for a while now, though, and finding him in my kitchen is not how I wanted to start the morning.

"I've almost killed you more times than I can remember. Why are you here? Do you have a death wish?" I snap.

He doesn't move, just keeps standing there, staring at me. He looks like a normal guy except for the fact that he happens to be missing a hand. He refuses to tell me what happened, like he thinks that I don't already know. He came to check on me after—and I threw my axe at him. I don't know why he thinks that I won't remember this, but he does. I didn't even watch where I was throwing. It serves him right. When I girl wants to be left alone, you leave her the hell alone.

"I know you were going to volunteer today and I thought that you might want some company for breakfast before you go off to the Capitol all by yourself," he says quietly. He's wearing his reaping clothes already—the same ones he wore last year. He really was planning on me letting him stay. Too bad.

"Well, you thought wrong. I'm good all by myself."

"At least let me make you breakfast—"

"Charlie, I chopped off your hand. Of course, you'll never admit that I did, which is ridiculous by the way, but I know that I did. Do you really want to try your luck again?"

He doesn't move, but instead starts to make breakfast. Losing patience, I hurl my axe at his head. It embeds itself in the wall not two centimeters from his head. He just looks at me, not surprised. He almost looks…hurt?

"I know that you want reveng—"

"Get out of my house, or I'm going to scalp you," I say coldly. Yes, he does look hurt and a little sad, but at least he finally got my message. He is screwing up my routine, and I need him gone.

"Good luck, Acacia," he whispers on the way out the door. Blinding hot rage tears through me at his use of my name.

"Ace," I snap. "It's Ace. Acacia died—"

"With Laurel. Yeah, I know," he finishes. Again, a conversation we've had too many times. "I don't think she did. She's still in there somewhere."

He closes the door just in time to stop my hatchet from splitting his head in two. It's too much trouble to go after him, so I let him go. How dare he? How dare he bring her up? I clench my jaw and force myself to eat breakfast, to ready myself for the reapings. I pull what I can of my reddish-brown hair into a ponytail, but some of it falls sloppily around my face. It does nothing to hide the thin little scar along my cheekbone—climbing accident when I was a kid—but when combined with my slim-fitting trousers and boots, I look like I'm ready for battle. And I am.

I have to leave my axe and hatchet at home, and I feel almost naked without them. I'm so used to the comforting weight of a weapon in my hand or strapped to my thighs, and now I feel like I'm about to float off the face of the earth. I should know better. The burden of revenge is heavy enough to weigh anyone down.

Despite the fact that I have no weapons, people get out of my way as I walk to the square. Maybe it's the outfit; maybe it's the scar; maybe it's the way that I'm glaring at the world. Maybe it's the fact that I never smile anymore; I used to think that I had forgotten how, but then I imagine the girl from District 9 choking on her own blood and know that I haven't.

Even when I take my place with all of the other sixteen year olds, they get out of the way. No one wants to be around the girl without a soul. I wonder if it's burned out of me. Has all the hatred that I have in here—burning bright and hot and painful in my chest—consumed my soul? After I kill her, what's going to be left for me? Of me? But it doesn't matter. Killing her is all that matters.

Mayrise Bessel, our escort—a ridiculous bird-like woman with a green turban—takes the stage to draw our names. She fishes around in the bowl for a good show, finally pulling out a name.

"And our girl is going to be…Acacia—"

"I volunteer!" I call before she even finishes the name. The crowd parts for me, no one daring to get in my way. I can see Charlie in standing with the seventeens, a small sad smile on his face. I'm not sure what it means, and I don't have the time to figure it out now. Now, I'm in the spotlight. This is my time to shine.

"Alright! That's the spirit of the Games. What's your name?" Mayrise asks excitedly. We haven't had any volunteers around here in a while.

"Ace March," I reply shortly.

"Ace? What an unusual name. Is it a nickname?"

I grit my teeth and force my birth name past my lips. "It's short for Acacia. Acacia March."

Mayrise stares at me for a minute and then glances down at her small slip of paper. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she's pushing away whatever silly thought was in that airy head of hers and is moving on. Again, she fishes theatrically in the bowl and finally comes up with a name.

"And our male is going to me…Jackson Reign!"

A tall, thin boy from the fourteens section comes through the crowd. He has dark red hair and freckles across his nose. His arms are long and thin, and I can tell that he's still in school. Anyone who had been out working would have muscles in those arms by now. But maybe there's some strength in there somewhere. It doesn't really matter if he does, though. It doesn't matter how strong your arms are if you don't see the attack coming. He shakes my hand, and his grip is like a limp fish. Yeah, he'll be an easy one.

We're taken to the Justice Building, surrounded by peacekeepers. I don't know why they feel the need to guard me. I did just agree to do this, after all. They take me into a room, where I find Charlie waiting.

"You really do have death wish, don't you?"

He smiles. It's a little lopsided smile that barely shows his teeth. "I figured that you couldn't have your axe in here, so I'd be safe."

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice like ice.

"I just wanted to tell you that…I'm actually not really sure why I'm here. I think that the minute I'm out of here, you're going to forget everything I say and focus on killing the kids from District 9." He's silent for a long time, like he's trying to figure out what to say. I don't bother to fill the silence. Meaningless words are pointless anyway. Finally, he figures it out.

"What do I always say when you tell me that you're not Acacia anymore?"

"That she's still in here somewhere," I answer, not sure where he's taking this conversation.

"And I know that I'm right. Somewhere under all that anger and hatred, Acacia—the girl who used to smile and play in the dirt with me as a kid—is still in there. But in the Games, I hope she stays gone."

"What?" Charlie is forever trying to bring that girl back, to make me smile, to remind me that life isn't so bad. To make me happy again. So why the hell does he want her gone?

"Acacia was happy and smiling and…gentle. But Ace is a killer. A cold-hearted, do what has to be done, killer. She's an ace in the hole. And that's who you need to be to win. And I want you to win," he says quietly, staring at me with an expression that I don't want to name. "I want you to come back."

"I will," I answer, equally as quiet.

I don't know why he's worried. Ace is who I am. She's all I have left.

Acacia doesn't live here anymore.


	8. D8: Sandcastles and Goodbyes

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Y'all are awesome. Here are the District 8 reapings, for your enjoyment. Also, I just want to remind everyone that I will have a chapter from your character's perspective, but I'm trying to have some variety in the POV. I will get to your tribute before I kill them (that sounds wonderfully comforting, doesn't it?) though, I promise. As alway, please review! I'm not doing a sponsor system, but it does make me more inclined to be nice to your tribute. **

**Asher Barkley**

Lisette and Russell don't care that it's reaping day. All they know is that Mom and Dad are home this morning and that I'm not going to be fixing them breakfast. They know that this means they can drag me into the back yard to play—something that we don't get to do that often. We don't have a swing set like some of the other families, or tree houses and bicycles; just a patch of grass and a sandbox. But we are happy with that sandbox. Happier than most of the kids with all their stuff.

Russell is building a sand castle and begging me to help him. Lisette has decided that at the ripe old age of ten, she is too old to be playing in the sand, so she picks at the dried grass and pretends not to notice how much fun we're having. I know that most other boys think that fifteen is probably too old to be building sand castles—no, it's not. You're never too old for sand castles and family. Well, I'm not, anyway.

"Asher! You've gotta build the moat!" Russell tells me, pointing at the ground beside our big pile of sand that is supposed to be a castle.

"A moat? What's a moat?" I ask. Of course I know what a moat is, I just wanted him to explain it to me because it's so too funny when he does.

"It's the river around the castle, silly! You gotta cross it on a bridge or a boat. Cross the moat on a boat! That rhymes!" he explains. He has a huge smile on his face that is enough to make even the most somber of people crack a smile. Every time he explain to me what a moat is, he also notices that it rhymes with boat. And of course, every time I smile.

"Well, we better make a bridge then, don't you think?" I ask.

"You need to build a castle first," Lisette says crossly. "That's just a pile of sand."

"Lisette, unless you're going to help us with the castle, you don't need to criticize it. Do you understand?" I use my best "I'm the one in charge here" voice, and she just pouts and nods. "Do you want to help?" She smiles and nods.

Between the three of us, we have the sand castle finished before breakfast, though we're covered in dirt from head to toe. I know that it is reaping day and that I should care about getting dirty, but I don't. Nothing is more important than these memories that we're making right now, and no amount of dirt is going to stop me from making them.

"Asher, you're filthy. You'll have to get a bath before you can go to the reaping," my mother says, brushing some of the dirt off of my shirt. I just shrug and smile.

She sets a breakfast platter on the table with toast and a jar of jelly. She also managed to get her hands on what appears to be sausage, but I've learned better than to question what it is. A while back some of the stray cats in the neighborhood went missing, but we had meat to eat, which is better than starving. This morning, Mom puts more food on my plate than Lisette and Russell. If I do get reaped, I'll need my strength I guess. I wonder how many times I've done the opposite, putting more food on their plates. They're just kids; they shouldn't have to go to bed hungry.

"Do you know what shift you're working tomorrow?" I ask my dad. On reaping day, it's better to pretend that I'll still be here tomorrow to take care of Lisette and Russel when they get home from school than it is to wonder what it'll be like if I'm not here. Besides, there's no sense in borrowing trouble.

"I won't be home until nine or ten," he answers quietly. I know that he feels bad about not being able to be home more, but the other option is starving. I would rather us all be separated by distance than by death, which is what would happen if he and Mom didn't work so much. It isn't the best, but it's the lesser of two evils.

"Cool. Delany and Sawyer were going to come by to help me with a school project tomorrow afternoon. Is that cool?"

"That's fine, honey," Mom says with a small smile. It's a smile that says "I should be helping him with that project," but again, she has to work. It's okay, though. The time that we get on the weekends is great. It isn't enough, but it's better than nothing at all.

"Awesome." Then, stuffing my mouth full of toast and sausage of questionable origin, I head to the bathroom to get cleaned up. My shower is record-breakingly fast—seven minutes. My reaping clothes look pretty much like my regular clothes, just with fewer holes than usual. I don't bother to do anything with my hair—it's messy no matter what I do with it.

"Asher! Sawyer and Delany are here!" Lisette calls down the hall. With a smile, I pull on my boots and head down the hall to meet them.

My two best friends are standing in the middle of the living room, playing with Russell. They've spent so much time here that they might as well be family. I can't remember a time when we haven't been friends. It started before we went to school, and then school just made the friendships stronger. We were an odd group; the poor kid, the pretty girl, and the golden boy. I wasn't the pretty girl or the golden boy. But it didn't seem to matter that we were different; somehow, we just meshed.

"Ready to go?" Delany asks, wrapping her arms around my neck in a welcoming hug. I'm not a big guy, but she feels so small pulled against me. I can smell the shampoo on her dark hair and it's nice. Very nice.

"Yep," I answer, grabbing my coat. "I'll see you in the square!" I call to my family as I head out the door.

This is something we've done since we were twelve years old. Before the reapings, we always take a walk and revisit all the places that are the most important to us, just in case we don't get to come back. I don't really like it all that much—I would much rather pretend that there is no chance of me not coming back—but Delany insisted. So now, every year, we take our tour. We go to the school where we've spent far too much time cooped up in classrooms. We visit the small park where Sawyer had his first kiss. We stop for a minute on the street where we all used to kick around rocks when we didn't have soccer balls. There are so many memories, it just doesn't feel like one walk could ever encompass all of them. After a while, we stop under a tree.

"Here," Sawyer says, passing me a piece of candy. There isn't a whole lot of money at my house, so candy is a real treat. I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth, savoring it. It tastes…too good for me to describe. It's nothing that I've ever tasted before.

"What is it?"

"Butterscotch. Dad brought them home last night," he answers. Delany doesn't say anything, just enjoys her candy in silence. She's so close to me that I have to fight the urge to reach over and take her hand. I can feel the heat from her body, so inviting, but I don't lean closer. Not here. Not with Sawyer standing right there.

The bells are ringing, telling us that it's time to go to the square. I don't want to get up—the moment is just too nice to disturb—but the reapings are calling. I help Delaney to her feet, and ignore the knowing look that Sawyer shoots in my direction. He doesn't say anything about it until Delany goes to the girls' section.

"You have a crush on her, don't you?" he asks accusingly. He isn't mad—he has a girl at school that he's after—but he is definitely wishing that I had told him.

"I—she's—yes." There's no point in trying to hide it from him, especially if he has already figured it out. He grins and elbows me playfully in the ribs. We both laugh, probably too loudly, but oh well.

Our escort—Tiberius Gorshead—take the stage. He's wearing a bright orange suit and a smile that makes him look almost inviting. He isn't as bad as some of the other escorts—he actually seems like a nice guy who cares about his tributes. Some of the others don't smile nearly as much as he does.

"Alright, let's get the show on the road, shall we?" he announces. He fishes around in the bowl and pulls out a name. "And our first tribute is going to be Briyana Pham! Briyana, come on down!"

A girl from the seventeens makes her way to the stage. She looks terrified out of her mind, and who can blame her. She's shaking and is starting to climb the stairs to the stage when someone else calls, "I volunteer! I volunteer for Briyana!"

Briyana pales as a look of shock crosses her face. A girl from the fourteens is rushing towards the stage, so eager to volunteer. Instead of looking relieved, Briyana sees who it is and gets even more upset. She grabs the volunteers arm and tries to push her back into the crowd, but the girl won't have it. She says something to Briyana, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and takes the stage.

"Tell me, what's your name?" Tiberius asks.

"Altheny Pham, but everyone calls me Ahlyce."

Ahlyce's face seems to be completely blank, like she put on some kind of mask to hide behind. I can't help but wonder if maybe she's afraid under there or if she really doesn't feel anything. I guess it doesn't really matter because she's a tribute now.

"Pham? So Briyana was your…"

"Cousin. She's my cousin," the girl answers.

"Alright, we've got us a game player. Let's see who our next tribute will be." Again, he reaches into the bowl and pulls out a name. "Asher Barkley!"

That's funny. I'm…I'm Asher Barkley. I'm _Asher Barkley. __I'm _Asher Barkley. Me. I've been chosen. That…that's not funny. I look at Sawyer, who's just looking at me with the saddest look in his eyes. He nods towards the stage and I realize that I have to go up there.

I don't know how I make it to the stage, but I do. Suddenly I'm standing up there and Tiberius is patting me on the shoulder, smiling at me. You know, people really should be nicer to him. He really does seem like a good guy.

I shake hands with Ahlyce. She doesn't smile at me, but instead just stares me down like she's trying to get me to fall under some kind of hypnotic spell. Her handshake is too strong, too firm, and it almost hurts my hand just a little bit. Her face is too neutral, and she doesn't have any laugh lines. I wonder why.

And then somehow, maybe the same way I got to the stage, I'm in the Justice building. I'm not really sure how I got there, but Sawyer and Delany are there, too. I'm not really sure what to say to them. Do I say goodbye? No, I don't want to say goodbye because I want to try to come back. But if I don't come back, I'll wish that I had said goodbye…

"Asher, snap out of it," Sawyer hisses, shaking my shoulder. He sounds angry. Why would he be angry at me? "Asher, man, you've got to snap out of it. You're family's going to be here in a minute and you don't want them to see you like this. C'mon, man."

It's almost like he's on the other side of a wall and I can't really hear him clearly. Everything feels muffled and distant, like this isn't really happening to me. But then someone is taking my face in their hands—tiny hands—and kissing me for all they're worth. It's a good kiss—I mean, I guess it's a good kiss; it's my first one, but I like it—but a little bit…demanding. When it's over, I look up and find Delany staring at me.

"Snap out of it, Asher. This is going to be a long, hard trip and you've got to pay attention. You can't zone out of it like that or we've not going to get to see you again. And in case you didn't notice, I'd really like it if you came back."

She says that last sentence shyly, like she's finally realizing what she did. A blush spreads across her cheeks and I smile. "Okay. I'm here. I'm awake. I can do this."

"Yes you can."

At this moment, the rest of the family walks in. Mom is crying, Lisette and Russell look confused, and Dad looks downright pissed. Russell climbs into my lap, not caring that he's eight years old and probably too big to be doing that. I don't really care. Lisette throws her arms around me and squeezes me tight.

"I'm scared for you, Asher," she whispers.

I kiss the top of her head, and give Delany and Sawyer a look that says "please look after them." They nod and I feel a hundred times better.

"Don't be," I whisper. "I'm going to be just fine."


	9. D9: So Proud

**A big thank you to those who reviewed! You are awesome. I only have three more reapings to go and then we can get into the Games. If you have an arena suggestion, PM it to me and I'll see if I can work it in. I've got a pretty good idea of the arena, but it never hurts to get some ideas. Also, if your tribute has a token and it is massively important to you, let me know. Thanks!**

**Cordelia "Cori" Harlow**

I've been sitting in this tree for probably three hours now; my knees are aching, my feet are cold, and I'm ready to get down. But as much as I want to get down, I keep sitting here, waiting. There is a huge buck that has been coming through here for the past few weeks and no one has managed to take him down yet. That's why I'm still sitting here, cold and stiff, in my tree while the rest of the District is probably warm and snuggled in their beds. Somewhere, Alston is waiting in another tree. I can't help but wonder if he is as ready to go as I am. He has to be; he's bigger than me and has probably crammed himself into a space that is far too small for him. But until the buck comes by, we sit and wait.

Finally, I see the deer. He is moving through the edge of the clearing as I pull up my bow, take aim, and fire. The arrow sails straight through his eye. At the same time, another one goes right through his heart. I should have known that Alston would take the shot, too. We were both raised at this and know exactly where to aim. My shot is the harder shot, but I decide not to rub it in my brother's face. We each have our strengths: he's a better gatherer, I'm a better hunter. That's just the way it is.

"Nice shot, Cori," Alston says, examining the hole through the animal's head. I smile, proud of my handiwork. I mean, really? How many girls can say that they've done this? In my district, I could count them on one hand, with one finger.

"Thanks. We've got to get it cleaned and cut up to take back into town. The last thing we want is the peacekeepers seeing us with a huge dead animal on our hands," I reply. Alston smiles.

"What? You don't want forty lashes? I know that's my favorite kind of present." Oh Alston with his amazing sense of sarcasm. It makes me smile every time.

"Oh yeah, that would be great. You could go to the reaping fresh from coming off the whipping post. It would make a great impression." Alston laughs and shakes his head.

We get the deer cleaned and dismantled in record time—we've been doing this for a while—and make our way back into town. We move so swiftly and quietly through the woods that it's almost hard for me to believe that this is the same woods I got lost in when I was a kid. In my defense, it was the first time that I had gone hunting by myself. I had been out with Dad and Alston before, but I had never shot anything. It was one of those stupid, childish impulse things; I felt like I had something to prove. I had wanted to go hunting by myself, but Mom and Dad wouldn't let me. I wasn't experienced enough yet, they said. So naturally, I took off to the woods to prove them wrong.

And all I did was prove that they were right. I spent the first day wandering around in the woods, trying to find my way out. Once I accepted that I was lost—which took far longer than it should have; I realized I was lost about five minutes into the trip, it just took me another few hours to accept it—I hunkered down in a bush. Mom had taught me a little bit about edible plants, and I had remembered even less of it, but it was enough for me to find some berries.

At the time I wasn't a great shot, but I was good enough to kill some birds. But then, it wasn't killing them that was the problem—it was cooking them. It had been rainy and all the wood was too damp to take a spark. It didn't matter how long I rubbed those sticks together, I couldn't get a fire started. I don't really recommend eating raw birds, but I was desperate. By the time that Mollie and Alston finally found me, I was huddled in a crude shelter, trying not to puke my guts up. I was shivering too hard to walk so Alston carried me out, Mollie walking behind him worriedly. It took them three days to find me, mostly because we couldn't launch a mass search for fear of the peacekeepers finding out why I was missing. You would think that Dad being a victor would make us exempt from those rules, but it doesn't; even if it did, Mom and Dad would never let us use his status to get away with any slack. It was a little difficult to explain why my brother was carrying me through Victor's Village; we told everyone that I hit my head.

After that, Dad and Alston knew that my hunting skills weren't what needed work; it was navigation. Two days later, as soon as I was well enough to get out of bed, I started to learn more in-depth navigational skills. I learned fast and haven't gotten lost since.

Before we head back to the house, I insist on making a stop. Alston is anxious, waiting for a peacekeeper to pop out at any minute and catch us with our contraband, but I don't really care. If not for them, we wouldn't have to be doing this anyway. I sneak into the back door of the house and put the meat in a small ice chest. Katherine, the older woman that lives here with her grandchildren, is nowhere to be seen. Every time after the first time I came by, she has always been absent when I drop the meat off, mostly so she can say that she honestly didn't know where it came from if someone asks her about it.

Yeah, I know. It's not the smartest thing I've ever done, but she can't work and the kids are starving. We should be looking after the elderly and the young, not letting them starve to death in a cold, broken house. Yeah, I have a small case of bleeding heart when it comes to starving kids. So sue me.

"You were gone for a while," Dad says when we finally come in.

"It took that buck forever to show up. And then Cori decided that she was going to play Santa Claus," Alston says before I can answer.

"Cori, what have I told you about that?" he asks, raising his eyebrows in semi-disappointment. He doesn't really disapprove of the fact that I'm giving away meat. He cares about the fact that it took so long.

"Last time I checked, Santa didn't deliver meat," I say lightly. Mom is giving me a worried look, like she's afraid that I had been spotted. "The peacekeepers were nowhere in sight. Besides, it was a great exercise in stealth." As I speak, I'm shooting Alston a look that clearly says, "help me out here or I'm going to beat you down."

"It was. She was very, very quiet," he says. There is no way that I can smile my way out of this one, so I look my father in the eye, unblinking and unflinching. He studies me for a long moment and then grins, proud that I've managed to evade District 9's finest.

"Go wash up. You look like a mess."

I bathe quickly, rinsing the blood off of my hands and working the kinks out of my muscles. Hot water is a luxury that not everyone in the district has, and I hate that for them. It is amazing how a little bit of hot water can fix the abuses that we put our bodies through. Truly, a little hot water is incredible. That is, when it isn't my mother yelling, "Cordelia Harlow! If you don't put your laundry away right now, you'll be in hot water!"

I quickly pull on my reaping clothes and pull my dark hair out of my face. The blue in my dress brings out the blue in my eyes, making them look brighter and bluer than they actually are. The dress also makes me look taller than I really am. I'm not really short, but if I'm reaped today, I want to look tall. No, not tall—"statuesque." Yeah, this dress is perfect for that.

A quick glance at the clock tells me that Mollie and Jay are going to be here soon, and before Dad lets me leave, he's going to make Alston and I practice with our swords. Alston has the advantage because he's taller and older than I am, but I'm faster than he is and more strategic. Our sparring is fast and hard, but we're both too good to draw blood from one another. I think that if Alston hadn't missed his chance to be a tribute, he would have been District 9's latest victor. But he missed his chance, and now it's up to me.

When Mollie and Jay turn up, I haven't bested him yet, but I'm close. I would have finished it quickly, but of course Mollie sees this as a perfect opportunity to rush in and give me a big bear hug. I'm not really sure that she understands the concept of a sword as a deadly weapon, probably because she's never been on the receiving end of it. I love Mollie, don't get me wrong, but sometimes she just doesn't think about what she's doing. There are days when I think that she couldn't find her butt with both hands.

Luckily, before she can get herself hurt, Jay is wrapping his arms around her and pulling her backwards, out of the range of our fight. Alston just shakes his head and smiles, throwing down his sword. He was about to lose, and he knows it. Everyone else knows it, too, because they're all giving him a hard time about it. Well, everyone but Mom, who can't really bring herself to give anyone a hard time. Instead, she takes the opportunity to remind us all that swords aren't toys; you know, in case we'd forgotten.

"Amalia Griffin—" my mother starts, turning towards Mollie.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Harlow. It won't happen again," she says quickly, stopping the lecture. "You ready to go?" she asks me. I nod and grab my coat out of the closet; Alston quickly follows suit. It doesn't matter that he's too old to compete in the Games; he still has to come to the reaping, and my gut is telling me that he might have the slightest crush on Mollie.

"I'll see you at the square," Dad says, giving me a hug as I head out the door. "Try not to cause too much trouble."

"I know, I know. Don't do anything that you wouldn't do, right?" I answer with a smile. He smiles back and nods. Mom gives me a quick kiss and tells me to be careful. There's something really ironic about being told to be careful on reaping day, you know? The four of us laugh about it on the way to the square. When our laughter finally subsides, Jay steps in with his joke of the day.

"So, have you heard this one? A Capitol was found dead in a swimming pool. How did she die?" Jay asks.

"She drowned?" I can't help but point out the obvious.

"Well, yeah. How?"

"I don't know. How?" Mollie asks, giving in. We all know that he's going to keep pushing until we ask him how she died.

"Someone put a scratch and sniff sticker on the bottom of the pool! Get it?" Of course we do. It's a terrible joke, we all know it, but we laugh at it anyway. When we arrive in the square, I can't help but think about all the memories we have here.

"Do you remember the time that I almost yelled 'fuc—" Mollie starts.

"Yes, I do. I still can't believe you were going to say that. You can't just insult the Capitol like that. You've really got to get the passive-aggressive thing down, Mollie," I tell her.

Just then, our escort—Hestia Pritchett—takes the stage. She has that same small smile that she has every year, like she's excited but doesn't want to give away a secret. I don't like the smile. It's obnoxious, especially when she's got her hand in the bowl pulling out names like she doesn't know that whoever she pulls might die.

"And the lucky winner is…Amalia Griffin!"

Mollie's face pales, but to her credit, she doesn't freeze. She walks slowly towards the platform and I see the look of resolve on her face. She's telling herself that she can do this, that she can keep it together. But she can't. I've done some impulsive, stupid things—like running off into the woods so that I could get lost for three days—but she has topped them all. There's no way she could survive.

"I'll take her place." I don't think anyone can hear me over the dull roar of everyone talking. I start pushing through the crowd, but people don't want to get out of the way. "Move out of the way!" I snap at the idiots who just stand there like knots on a log. "I'll take her place!"

Hestia is smiling at me, but Mollie isn't. In fact, Mollie looks like she wants to reach across the small space between us and rip me a new one. But she doesn't. Instead, she lets them escort her off the stage. Thank god she goes quietly without giving me a hard time in front of everyone.

"Cordelia Harlow," I tell Hestia when she asks my name. I see recognition in the faces of the crowd as they remember that my father won the games. One of _those _Harlows. It's as if announcing my name tells everything that anyone might need to know, so Hestia doesn't bother with any further introductions. Instead, she pulls the next tribute.

"And our other tribute is going to be…Simon Rhodes!"

A tall, burly guy from the eighteens makes his way to the stage. He doesn't look very happy, but he doesn't really seem that mad about the situation, either. Great. I love it when you can't tell what your opponents are thinking. It's always so very handy. He shakes my hand—a strong, bone-crushing grip—and then we're escorted to the Justice Building. I'm not really sure how, but Mollie, Jay, and Alston have managed to beat me there, and Mollie is livid.

"What the _hell _were you thinking volunteering like that?" she shouts immediately. "This isn't a game, Cori, despite the title—"

"I know that," I answer calmly. "We both know that I'm read—"

"Don't tell me that you're ready for this! You're about the get thrown to the wolves—maybe literally! They're going to throw you into the arena with twenty-three other people, all of whom want to kill you!" She's really going now. Sometimes, when she gets like this, it's easier just to let her rant. "The Capitol is going to torture you for their amusement! They're going to think that it's just awesome to have a victor's kid in the arena again. It's going to be common knowledge, and all the other tributes are going to be gunning for you! You should have let me go—"

"Mollie, you thought it would be fun to interrupt a sword fight this morning so that you could give me a hug. You haven't had any weapons training; you can't hunt. You don't have any survival skills. Some days, you couldn't pour piss out of a boot with directions on the heel! I stand a chance at winning. Its better this way and you know it."

She heaves a sigh of frustration, not wanting to admit that I'm right. Finally, she just nods and leans against Alston, not really sure what else to do. Everything that I have said is right. If she had gotten lost in the woods, she would have been dead. Alston just stands there, his arm draped comfortingly around Mollie's shoulder, staring at me. I know he won't say goodbye, because that means that I might not come back, and I'm not going to go there. Instead, he glances at Mollie and Jay; the look tells me that he'll look after them. Even Jay can't think of anything to lighten the mood.

"Your father will be proud," he finally whispers. He's right. Dad is going to be so proud, so ready to mentor his daughter and bring a victor home. At that moment, the doors burst open and the parentals pour in.

The first words out my father's mouth are, "I'm so proud of you." I can't really say that I'm surprised. I think that he's probably been planning on having a victor for a child since the moment he found out that my mom was pregnant. Now he's got his chance, and I can tell by the look on his face that he isn't going to go easy on me.

When it's time to go, I give them all one last hug. Alston whispers in my ear, "I'll look after them."

"I know you will. Especially Mollie, right?" I answer with a raised eyebrow. He just shrugs and smiles. Jay's hug is tight and lingering, and I know he wants to say something funny but can't think of anything. Mollie's hug is rough and a little too brief, and I know she's trying not to say goodbye. I look at them and smirk.

"I'll see you later, guys. Try not to miss me too much."


	10. D10: That I'mInTrouble Smile

**Author's Note: So, I only got three reviews on the last chapter, which I'll admit is a bit disappointing. So please review! Also, if your tribute has a token that is very important to you, let me know and I'll try to work it in. Again...please review! =)**

* * *

**Monticlaro "Monty" Cantle**

Nothing will wake you up like she smell of chicken shit in the morning. It's probably worse than any other smell on the planet, or at least any other smell in the district. I'm not really sure how I got chicken duty this morning, but at least it isn't the goats. The goats smell better, but they are a hell of a lot meaner than the chickens. Normally, Mom would be handling it, but its reaping day and we're all pitching in to get things done before we have to go. Boys tend the chickens, girls get the goats.

"I don't know how Mom does this every day. God, the smell is awful," I say to my brother, who is trying to change out the water.

"Must be a gift," Porter answers, wrinkling his nose.

"A gift? A curse maybe."

Porter laughs and nods. Earlier, we were joking about bringing clothespins for our noses, and I'm starting to think that maybe we should have been a little more serious about the idea. I mean, I work with horses and cows on a daily basis, so I'm used to smelling scat all the time, but the chickens take it to a whole new level. Of course, those chickens keep us from starving to death, so I guess I shouldn't hate them too much.

Across the yard, I see my sisters struggling with the goats. I should probably help them, but sitting back and watching them get head butted in the ass is just too much fun. One of the kid goats is eating the edge of Dori's skirt and she hasn't even noticed yet. By the time she does, the majority of the hem is gone and she starts scolding the goat like it can actually understand what she's saying. Emi just laughs at her. The laughing doesn't last too long before a goat head butts her again.

"You think we should help 'em?" Porter asks, half-serious. He's fighting to keep the smile off his face.

"You know, I think that feeding goats is an exercise in character building. We're older and have plenty of character already. Helping them would be depriving them of that experience," I answer mockingly. Porter can't keep his laughter back any longer, and neither can I. Dori and Emi give us dirty looks as they see us laughing at them.

"Hey Monty, it wouldn't kill you to help us, you know!" Dori calls, cranky. She starting to hit that age where it isn't cool to like anything that your family does, so naturally, she's sour-faced with us. Emi just keeps trying to fight at the goats that are surrounding her, not bothering to acknowledge Dori's complaining.

"I think you're doing a fine job," I tease. Dori's face turns beet red and she has somehow suddenly found the energy to fight through the crowd of goats that stand between her and the gate. Dozens of curses and headbutts later, the girls are out of the goat pen and looking slightly worse for wear.

Emi just smiles knowingly at me as Dori trudges angrily back towards the house. The rest of us just laugh at her as we fall into a line and walk back together. Dori's the youngest of us and has always been a bit overdramatic; the rest of us have learned to deal with it. Emi is only seven months younger than me, and has that calm, mothering attitude about her. The whole mother-woman thing comes in handy when Dori goes into prima donna mode because she manages to soothe Dori's nerves; Porter and I just pick on her and make it worse.

"How long do you think she'll be pissed?" I ask Emi.

She raises and eyebrow at me and smiles playfully. "She'll be done by the time breakfast is over. Sooner if you make her laugh…or play for her."

I look at Porter for confirmation. "I'd say that's a fair assessment," he confirms.

When we get inside, breakfast isn't quite finished and Dori is still sulking in the kitchen. To ease her mood, I walk back to the room I share with Porter and grab my guitar. The guitar is made of dark wood, but it has all the nicks and dents of a well-played, well-loved instrument. I've had to replace the strings more times than I can count, and my hands are callused from playing every day. I settle in a chair in the corner of the kitchen—out of the way of the hustle and bustle—and begin to play.

I've only played a few bars when I hear Emi's sweet, soprano voice start to sing. From the time we were little, she's always been a singer. Dori, wanting to be just like her older sister, started singing as soon as she was able. It isn't long before I hear Dori's strong alto voice joining us and I can't keep the smile off my face.

_Over the valley, the sun is setting_

_The birds are sleeping, the coyotes rise._

_And in the shadows, I am waiting_

_Missing my home and the happy skies…_

Emi's voice is light and soaring on the melody, entwined beautifully with Dori's alto harmonies. I don't sing—never have—but you don't have to sing to appreciate their voices. Hell, you don't even have to have a good ear for music to appreciate what they're doing. They say that music soothes the savage beast, and it is moments like this that makes me understand that expression.

By the time we finish the song, Dori has tears in her eyes and I'm sure that she isn't mad at me anymore. Then again, she never could stay mad at me for very long. I see Emi staring at me, a small smile on her face. I know why she's smiling, but try not to think about it. Only after we're done with the song do we come to the table for breakfast.

Mom sits at the head of the table, and we fill in on the sides. The chair at the other end of the table stands empty. To anyone on the outside looking in, this might make an awkward image; I know that people in town look at us funny anytime we go somewhere as a family. We're the white family with a black child. And me…well, I'm the black kid. Some people don't like it—I've seen the way that they look at us—but we couldn't care less. Black, white, tan, purple, red, or green; it doesn't matter. I was adopted as an infant; this is the only home I know. This is home.

After breakfast, Dori and Emi clear the dishes while Porter and I go get dressed for the reaping. They'll get dressed later after they've finished with the dishes. It isn't that Porter and I don't have our fair share of chores to do—they're just mostly outside chores, where a man's work should be. If Porter and I tried to do dishes, it would take us forever, so it's better that the girls do it anyway.

Either way, we're all ready to head to the reaping within the hour. On the way to the square, I see a flash of sleek red hair and try to ignore the sharp pain in my chest. It's a little bit ridiculous that just that little flash of color can affect me like that. I glance at Porter, who notices that I'm tense.

"You alright, man?" he asks.

"Why wouldn't I be? Bitch isn't worth worrying about." The words come out harsher than I intend for them to, but it doesn't make them any less honest. She isn't worth worrying over. It's done, it's finished, and I'm not going to let her ruin my day.

"Bitch? Are you talking about me again, Monty?" asks a light, playful voice from behind me. I turn to find Cincha standing behind me, hands on her hips. She's wearing a skirt, and it is probably the most awkward, weird thing I have ever seen in my life. Cincha is the only girl in our herding crew, but it's hard to think of her as a girl. She rides and jokes and swears just like a man.

"You headed to the reaping?" I ask. Stupid question.

"No, I was actually getting ready to leave for vacation. Where else would I be going?" she asks, a light layer of sarcasm in her voice. "I was actually heading to meet Coro and Pummel, then on to the reaping."

"Where are you meeting them?"

"I was supposed to meet them here, but clearly, they aren't—"

"Cincha! You found the Shit Whisperer!" a loud voice calls from behind us. I don't have to turn around to know that that's Coro and Pummel, the rest of the crew. Only they would use that lovely nickname. Horses produce manure—which is just about all they're good for— and I am good with horses, hence the nickname. I know that my mom is cringing at the nickname, but it's a little bit funny.

"Found me? I wasn't aware that I was lost," I answer.

"Oh ha. How funny you are," Pummel says. "Are we going to do this thing?"

I nod and stoop to give my mom a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you after the reaping, okay?" She nods and hugs me.

The four of us walk into the town square together, looking like we're up to no good. Of course, we rarely are up to anything good. We stay together as long as possible until we Cincha has to go stand with the other eighteen girls. Again, the oddest thing ever. She's such a…she's always just been one of the guys, I guess. The rest of us take our spots with the eighteen boys and wait for our escort to take the stage. Horus Spurrier takes the stage—looking far more feminine than Cincha ever did—in some kind of cloak and billowy pants. Who the hell wears stuff like that? Really? He puts his hand in the bowl and fishes around for a name in a completely overdramatic and unnecessary fashion before pulling out a name.

"Our first tribute is going to be Brie Sacinas!"

It takes a minute before a tiny, auburn-haired girl makes her way to the stage from the twelves section. She's got a small smile on her face, like she's trying to keep the whole world from seeing how terrified she is, but it isn't working. The last time I saw a look like that was on a guy about to have his hand amputated after it was crushed under a cow's hoof. It's that look that people have when they're so terrified that they don't know what else to do. When I was a kid, I always got in trouble because I couldn't keep the smile off my face while my mom was scolding me. It is the smile of someone who knows that they're in trouble.

When she takes the stage, I see that her pants are sitting a few inches above her ankles and her sleeves are too short. She's probably growing so fast that her family can't afford to buy her clothes to keep up with her. I remember the same thing happening to me and Emi. Porter and Dori didn't have it so bad because they had our hand-me-downs. Still, even if this girl has been growing, she's still tiny. Girl doesn't stand a chance. Of course, historically, they usually don't in the games. There have been more male victors than females.

Horus puts his hand into the other bowl and pulls out another slip of paper. "Our second tribute is Monticlaro Cantle!"

My face freezes and I know that I have that same smile that girl had earlier; it's that I'm-in-trouble smile, and it is stuck on my face. My feet feel like lead as I trudge to the stage and mount the stairs. In the girls section, I can see Dori and Emi with tears streaming down their cheeks. Cincha and the guys manage to keep straight faces, their mouths twisted into flat, straight lines in an attempt to hide their worry.

Her hands are tiny; when we shake, my hand swallows hers. I can feel her shaking, but at least she isn't crying hysterically like some of the girls have before her. She hangs on to my hand a minute too long and just a little bit too tight; I see her staring at me, studying me. Does she think that I can help her? That I can save her? Because I can't. The peacekeepers tear her hand from mine and we're taken to the Justice Building.

My crew is waiting when I get there: Cincha, Coro, and Pummel. Their faces are somber, but thank god they aren't being overly emotional.

"Well, Shit Whisperer, I don't know how you managed it—" Coro starts.

"I didn't manage it. The Capitol managed it for me," I snap. I shouldn't be snapping at him, I know, but I can't help it. It just…came out.

"Alright, listen. Make sure that you stay hydrated," Pummel starts. "The minute you set foot on that train, you start drinking water. Dehydration will kill you."

"He's right. Before you go into the arena, you need to make sure that you're pissing clear. If you're not pissing clear, you're dehydrated," Cincha finished. Nothing like talking about bodily functions to lighten the mood. And thank god for it, too, because it would be awful for my family to come into a tense, somber atmosphere.

Immediately, Dori throws her arms around my neck, sobbing into the front of my shirt. Emi pulls her off of me and holds her tight, trying to make the emotional strain off of me; she's trying to keep me from thinking about how this could be the last time that I ever see my family. She's mothering me in her own little way. Mom is straightening the collar of my shirt, trying to focus on the little details to keep from crying. Porter just stands silently beside me.

"Take care of each other," I tell them. "The farm can give you nearly everything you need to survive. Your wages can get you the rest. You know that if you need help, just ask one of my crew—"

"We know, Monty," Emi says quietly. "But you know they've always taken requests from you the best."

"I know. So tell them that if they give you a hard time, I'm going to kick their asses when I get back."


	11. D11: Whatever I Have to Do

**So, a huge, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed. As you can tell, we are almost done with the reapings, which means that very soon we will be at the Games! I'm definitely excited to write them, and I'm hoping that you're excited to read them. Also, I've started a livejournal (.com/) if you want to keep up with me there. I'll have some stuff about my stories up there every now and again if you're interested. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review!**

**Cadogen Sopheap**

The pitter-patter of tiny feet on the cold wooden floor rouses me from my sleep. I'm lingering in that state between sleeping and waking until the tiny hands that belong to those tiny feet grab my arms and start shaking me. I don't move, hoping that maybe they'll go away and let me sleep a little bit longer if I just don't acknowledge them. This plan does not work because moments later, someone has plopped down on top of me. Mariya; it has to be Mariya—she's the only one that ever does this.

"Mariya, go wake up Katalin and then come back," I groan, just wanting to sleep a little later.

I know that it's reaping day and that I should be terrified, but at this point, I'm too tired to be terrified. Too many mornings, not unlike this one, I wake up just as exhausted as I was when I went to bed. Maybe it comes with being the man of the house. There are just too many things to do, too many people to look after and worry about, to just drift off to sleep at night. Last night, I laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about all the things that need to be fixed. The window in Katalin and Mariya's room; the drainpipe on the side of the house; Natta's kitchen table…the list goes on forever.

"Katalin's already up. You're the only one that's not. Now get up!"

"Everyone's already up? Even Fion?" She nods. "Why didn't you wake me up when Fion woke up?"

"Katalin said to let you sleep some more. She and Raddon are watching him. But Shaw's here now, and he said it's time for you to get up."

I climb out of bed and pull on a shirt. Mariya leaves me to take care of my morning hygiene, and I'm grateful. Some mornings, it takes me a minute to put my face on; that positive, "everything is going to be great" face that keeps the rest of the family from knowing how bad things really are. I practice my smile in the mirror, brush my teeth, and go to face the world.

Chaos has broken out in the living room. Raddon and Katalin are trying to figure out why Fion is crying. My money says that it's a dirty diaper, but I'm willing to bet that somehow, this hasn't occurred to my siblings. That, or they don't like the idea of having to change a diaper. Mariya is standing next to a pile of clothes—probably the ones that need to be washed—and turning them into a magical cave. Shaw is standing in the doorway, looking completely lost.

"Cadogen, we fed him, but he won't stop crying," Katalin tells me.

"Did you check his diaper?" They both look horrified at the suggestion and shake their heads. "He probably needs to be changed. You do that while I start breakfast."

"But Cad—" Raddon starts.

"No buts. You're thirteen years old—"

"I'm fifteen!" Katalin says indignantly.

"Then you should both be able to change a diaper by now. You tell me all the time that you want to be treated like adults. Well, adults change diapers," I tell them with a smile. They don't look particularly happy, but they get it done. "Mariya, you need to put the clothes back in the hamper."

"They're not clothes! It's my magical fairy cave," she says in that bright, cheerful voice that all seven year olds should have.

"Well, its time to get ready, so you need to put the magical fairy cave away." And with that, just like Raddon and Katalin, she's doing as I ask. Shaw is staring at me in awe.

"How do you do that?" he asks, clearly in shock. I shrug. Truthfully, I'm not really sure how I manage that. I just know that they listen to me, and thank goodness they do. This house would probably explode otherwise.

"Just make sure that they get dressed for the reaping and destroy anything, okay?" I ask with a smile. He just nods and heads off after them; I head towards the kitchen to start breakfast, only to find that my older sisters have already gotten there.

"Morning, Caddy," Chara says, cracking an egg into a pan. "We tried to get him to let you sleep in, but Shaw looked like he was about to lose it. You would think that by the age of twenty-one, he'd be able to handle a few kids."

"Don't call me Caddy," I answer immediately, giving her an affectionate hug.

"Well, Shaw always was a little slow on the uptake, bless his heart," Natta—Chara's twin—comments from the sink, where she's washing some dishes. She blows me a kiss and keeps scrubbing away at the dishes. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing good. The house hasn't fallen down yet, and they're all doing great. Katalin won the geography bee at school," I tell her. Of course, she didn't really have to ask the question. She already knows exactly how we're all doing because she's been over here nearly every day since Mom and Dad died. Well, "died" isn't really the proper term, but it's just semantics.

Natta, Chara, and Shaw had all moved out before it happened. They're adults, so it makes sense. Afterwards, they offered to move back into the house to help me out—four kids is more work than most would think it is—but I told them not to. For one, there isn't room. We barely have enough room for the five of us that are living here now. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when Fion gets too big for his crib. There's also the fact that they have lives; Chara has a fiancé, and Natta was talking about moving in with her boyfriend. I can't tell them to give all that up to move back in with us. Not when I'm doing…okay on my own.

"She told me. She was practically bouncing off the walls. She also told me that Fion called you "da-da" the other day. How's that feel?" Natta asks.

Truthfully, it wasn't great. He should be calling my father that, but he's not here. Fion should be trying to say "mommy" and "daddy" instead of "Katalin" and "Caddy" (as the rest of the family has dubbed me). But again, I'm not going to tell her that.

"He was trying to say "Caddy" and it came out wrong. I'm sure he'll grow out of it. Mariya and Raddon did."

And then, before any of us can say anything else, Shaw appears in the doorway, followed closely by the rest of the crew. Mariya's clothes don't match—she's wearing a yellow shirt with faded brown pants—but I don't care. That yellow shirt makes her happy, and I'm not going to change that. Katalin looks like a young lady in her clothes, and Raddon looks like a mess. Of course, he is a mess, so it works. Shaw just looks scared out of his mind.

Breakfast goes as well as can be expected—only one bread roll fight between Shaw and Raddon—and then they're all helping Chara and Natta clean up the kitchen while I got get dressed for the reaping. I don't really have a whole lot of clothing choices, but I find something. I choose the shirt that makes me look less skinny than all the others. Natta and Chara would say that I'm "lanky," and I guess they're right. It doesn't really matter though. Lanky or skinny, I'm still a pretty strong guy. I don't bother with my hair; there's nothing that can really be done about it anyway.

"I need all of you to line up at the door," I call down the hallway. I can hear the trample of feet as they all move towards the door. Sure enough, when I get there, they're all standing exactly where they should be. Even Shaw is in line, despite the fact that my order clearly didn't apply to him. Then, with one last look over the house, we head for the town square.

Reaping day isn't a festive occasion in District 11, mostly because we haven't had a victor in twelve years. We're plant people, not weapon people. When we arrive in the square, no one is smiling, especially not my family. The stage usually displays our whipping post, but it has been removed for the reaping. You can still tell where it was, though. The wood at the base of the post is stained red from its near-constant use. See, we're not allowed to take food from our harvests; we have to buy it, which is why most of the district is starving. If you eat even one berry while you're working, you get forty lashes. If you don't produce enough crops, you get forty lashes. If you complain about those forty lashes, or even question why you're getting them, you get forty more.

Eighty lashes will kill a man. Eighty lashes will kill a woman. Eighty lashes—well, a combined one hundred and sixty lashes—killed my parents.

I send Raddon and Katalin to their proper places before taking my place with the other seventeens. We're usually all quite civil with each other, but the reapings are making everyone nervous and no one is really in a good mood. I try to keep my smile on, to encourage everyone. Maybe this year will be the year; maybe this year, we'll get a victor.

Our escort—Nira DuBose—takes the stage and puts her hand into the bowl to pull out the first girl. "Charlotte Perry!" she calls, holding the slip of paper over her head in some kind of twisted victory sign.

A girl from the fourteen section makes her way to the stage as I sigh in relief; it wasn't Katalin. Charlotte has long, light brown hair and thick eyebrows. She's not tall, but she's not short either. There really doesn't seem to be anything extraordinary about her at all. But then, looks can be deceiving, so we'll have to see.

"And this year's boy is going to be Raddon Sopheap!"

Raddon. She called Raddon. She called _Raddon. _That doesn't make any sense. He's only thirteen. His name should only be in the drawing twice. He hasn't taken any tesserae…

"I volunteer." The words come out quietly at first, too quiet for anyone else to hear. But they have to hear. If they don't hear, they're going to send Raddon into the games. He's only thirteen; he can't go.

"I volunteer!" I call again, but again, no one hears me. They're all staring at Raddon as he mounts the steps, trying to keep from looking terrified out of his mind. Well, if no one will hear me, I'll have to make myself heard.

"Excuse me, pardon me. I need to get through. Excuse me," I say quickly, pushing through the crowd. As I break through at the stage, peacekeepers step forward to stop me. "I volunteer!"

Raddon's eyes widen and he shakes his head at me, but they're already escorting him away. I climb the steps, wondering if this is what it felt like when my parents were dragged up here. I accidentally step in the red stain and cringe as I do so. It feels almost like stepping on Mom and Dad.

"What's your name?" Nira asks cheerfully.

"Cadogen. Cadogen Sopheap," I choke out.

And then I'm shaking hands with Charlotte. Now that I'm close, I can see that she's just as terrified as I am. Her big blue eyes are filled with tears that she's trying to hold back, and I wonder who is crying for her out in the crowd.

The peacekeepers take us to the Justice Building, and when I get there, Natta and Chara are waiting for me. They aren't crying—not yet—and I'm grateful for that. Goodbye would be so much harder with the tears. I almost feel guilty now; I'm dumping them with my responsibility. But then, they've always watched out for us more than even I know.

"One of you is going to have to move back in with them. Shaw can't do it. He would lose his head if it wasn't screwed on right," I say before they can say anything.

"I'll stay with them," Natta says, taking me into her arms. I hug her tightly and try not to cry. If I start, I might not stop, and I don't want the younger ones to see me crying.

"I'm sorry, you guys—"

"Don't be," Chara says fiercely, taking her turn at hugging me. "You did the right thing."

Just then, the rest of the crew bursts in, all of them throwing themselves at me at one time. The onslaught of people is just too much for me, and I fall to the ground, my siblings piling on top of me. Everyone, that is, but Raddon. He's standing in the back corner of the room, crying. After struggling back to my feet through the hugs and the tears, I make my way to where he's standing.

"Raddon, it's going to be fine, okay. Don't worry about me—"

"I took tesserae," he whispered quietly. "That's why my name got called. And then you had to go for me. You should have let me go."

That explains how his name was called. I wonder how much he took, but it doesn't really matter all that much at this point.

"I was just so hungry and I could hear Katalin's stomach growling, even though she said she wasn't hungry. And you were working so hard and you do the best you can, and I needed to do something to help, too. I'm sorry, Cadogan. I'm sorry. You do what you have to do to keep us alive, and then I ruined it—"

"Hey, stop that," I whisper, pulling him into a hug. "This isn't your fault. You were just doing what you had to do to keep us alive, too, okay? You're helping keep us together. This isn't your fault, do you understand me?" He nods reluctantly. "Now, promise me that you're not going to take anymore tesserae."

"I promise."

"Good. Now look after them, okay? Can you do that for me?"

He nods. "What are you going to do, Cadogan? How are you going to win?"

I smile at him. "I'll do whatever I have to do."


	12. D12: Time to Go

**Author's Note: I know that I said I would try to have this up at the end of the week, but it just couldn't happen. I got swamped with end of the semester school work. But on the bright side, we are now done with the reapings, which means that we can get into the actual Games! We should all celebrate by reviewing. =)**

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**Lillieth "Lilly" Bane**

My mother is sleeping soundly beside me, crammed into the tiny little bed that has been pushed close to the stove for warmth. I can hear the high pitched wheezing sound of her breathing; it's only a cold, but some cough syrup would be nice every now and again. I force my eyes open to see the perpetually blurry world of District 12. I used to have glasses, but my eyes have gotten worse and they're useless now. It isn't really that bad; I can see well enough to read and do chores that need to be done, but things at a distance are always a little bit blurry.

I can hear the door open and then my grandfather's uneven tread as he walks across the room to the table. There is a dull thud as he puts the bag on the table; that bag holds the morning kill, which will also be our breakfast. Bless his heart, he's nearly seventy years old and still hunting. Well, it's mostly trapping these days, but he still hunts some too. It's a small miracle—okay, maybe a big one—that he still manages to get past the fence at his age, but he does it.

"Grandaddy, you went hunting without me?" I ask. Normally, he would wake me up and we would go together. Occasionally, I go alone, but there hasn't been a morning since I turned seven that I haven't gone with my grandfather in the mornings. Well, not until today, apparently.

"I wanted to let you sleep in, dollface," he says, sitting down at the table and beginning to skin the rabbit. It isn't a pretty job, but it has to be done. We could probably make some money off of its fur, but I think we're going to need it to stay warm this winter. It isn't even winter yet, but the nights are already getting cold.

"You should have let me come with you—" I start, but then I realize why he let me sleep. It's reaping day. They let me sleep late on reaping day, like sleeping through what could potentially be one of the last mornings of my life would make things any better. Truth be told, if this is going to be the last day I get with my family, I would rather be awake to have the time with them, I think.

I take the rabbit out of his hands and finish skinning it in silence. It could be an awkward silence with anyone else, but with Grandaddy it isn't. We don't have to talk for him to know what I need. He passes me the knives and pans that I need, and shortly, we have breakfast cooked. Only then do we wake up Mom and Grandmama.

Mom looks almost embarrassed when she sees that I've made my own reaping day breakfast, but I don't really mind. It keeps my mind off what's coming. I try to remind myself that my odds aren't really all that bad; my name is only in the drawing fifteen times. I know kids that have their name in the drawing nearly fifty. Somehow, it doesn't really help to know this, so I try to do other things to keep my mind off of it.

Shoveling my mouth full of food doesn't really help things all that much. We don't really have enough spices to flavor the meat, so it's a little bit tasteless. I'm used to it at this point, but still. We talk about all the day-to-day stuff from the district; I'll graduate at the end of the school year. Then I'll be able to take my abundant knowledge of all things coal-related and produce yet more goods for the Capitol. It's a lovely never-ending, self-perpetuating cycle. But even this idea doesn't make Mom any less proud of my grades.

Since Grandaddy and I made breakfast, Mom and Grandmama clean up afterwards. I know that I need to get dressed for the reaping, but I don't want to. I know that getting dressed means looking in the mirror, and that's the last thing that I want to do. Unfortunately, Mom won't let me put it off any longer.

"Lilly, you need to go get dressed. I laid out your clothes on the bed."

I try to keep my reluctance from showing on my face, but Mom knows me too well to miss the expression. She isn't just my mom; she's my best friend, and she can read me like a book. I keep nothing from her. A small, encouraging smile crosses her face, and I take strength from it.

A light brown dress is laying across the foot of the bed. Without looking in the mirror, I pull it over my head and button it. It is a bit too short for my liking, but it still mostly fits. The hair brush nearly gets stuck in my hair when I try to comb the knots out of it; I see stray dark hairs getting caught in the brush and the occasion white strand every now and again.

Eventually, I can put if off no longer. I have to look in the mirror, much to my great chagrin. As usual, I'm not exactly pleased with what I find there. Okay, that was the gross understatement of the century. I hate what I see staring back at me in the mirror. My long, dark hair is disrupted by a shock of white at the crown of my head. It's some kind of genetic mutation—probably the same one that blessed me with one grey eye and one blue one. Thanks, genetics. Thanks a lot.

I'm like one of those wild dogs that run around the district; one ones that are too think and mangy for anyone to actually want. That's me. I'm skinny—not thin—and pale and completely undesirable. I don't have a cute "take me home and love me" face. Well, unless you're talking about those faces that are so ugly they're cute, in which case I'm damn cute. That's me.

But for whatever reason, Mom doesn't see it. For her, I'm always going to be her "beautiful little flower." Maybe it's just that she doesn't want to admit that her only child is a strange mix of all the undesirable traits that a person could have. Maybe she's just blinded by a mother's love. That's more likely, I suppose. Grandmama and Grandaddy are the same way.

"You look lovely," Grandmama tells me.

"You look lovely, too," I answer, though she's wearing her awful holey bathrobe that she's had since before my mother was born. Well, it might not be that old exactly, but it might as well be. "I need to get one of those bathrobes. They're coming back in to style, you know."

She laughs with me, not at me. When I'm in school or in town, they don't laugh with me. I don't actually make jokes outside of the house, so when they're laughing, they laugh at me. They notice the same awful mixture in my facial features and find it absolutely hi-larious.

"Let your grandmother get dressed so that we can go," my mom says nervously. Bad things happen to people who are late to the reaping, and we're not going to run the risk of being those people. We can't afford it; if the peacekeepers punished either of my grandparents, they wouldn't survive.

The clock chimes, reminding us that it's time to go. I think they used to be called cuckoo clocks, but this one doesn't have a cuckoo in it. Instead, it has a mockingjay. I'm not really sure when mockingjays started replacing cuckoos in the clocks, but God only knows they're all over the place up here, so it makes sense.

The trip to the square takes too long. I mean, we get there on time, but the walk is exhausting for my grandparents. Mom is holding my hand the entire way, trying to give me some comfort. I'm seventeen; after this, I only have one more year to go before I'm ineligible. As soon as I turn nineteen, I'll be able to breathe easier and so will the rest of my family. After finding a bench for Grandaddy and Grandmama, I make my way to my section.

Andrew Wilson-Webbster takes the stage. He's one of the youngest—twenty-five at the most—and more quiet escorts that I've seen. He doesn't ever call for us to quiet down or anything; instead, he just stands there quietly and waits for us to get quiet. It never takes us too long. Unlike some of the other escorts, he genuinely seems to respect us; he doesn't have that same glee at pulling our names like the others do. When he reads through the speech that tells the story of the Hunger Games, his voice is flat and unexpressive. He doesn't want to be here, and I can respect that.

"The female tribute from District 12 this year will be Lillieth Bane," he says without ado.

There's a loud shriek, and I recognize that scream before I recognize my name. That's Grandmama screaming, and that must mean that it's my name he called. I start walking towards the stage—the slightly blurry stage in the distance. I can hear people talking about me as I pass, thinking that there's no way this mangy mutt of a person is going to win this year. They're already labeling me a bloodbath tribute, and I'm not even on stage just yet.

"Are you Lillieth?" Andrew Wilson-Webbster asks when I finally make it to the stage. At this point, I'm mostly grateful that I didn't trip on the way here.

"Yeah…I go by Lilly," I answer loud enough for everyone to hear. This is the first time that most of them have ever heard me speak. I stare out into the crowd; I'm not begging for a volunteer that will never come. Instead, I'm forcing them to remember me. I've treated them with coldness because they treated me that way first. But then I look back at Andrew Wilson-Webbster and he smiles gently at me. I can't help but wonder what he's thinking right now.

"Stand right here," he says quietly, gently guiding me to where I should stand. Then he pulls another name from the boys bowl. "Robert Delson."

A lanky boy walks over from the fifteens section. He isn't crying or making a scene, but it's obvious that he's unhappy. Scratch that—unhappy would be a vast oversimplification. I think I see a bit of anger in his expression. That's good, I think. Instead of throwing in the towel, he's going to fight this to the very end. That will make him a damn good ally.

His handshake confirms my analysis. It's firm and he makes eye contact with me. I give him a small grin and he returns it. He introduces himself as the peacekeepers are escorting us to the Justice Building.

"I'm Rob."

"Lilly."

"Well, Lilly…our chances of survival increase drastically if we're in an alliance. Allies?"

I grin. "Allies. I'll see you on the train."

And then he's pushed into another room to say his goodbye to his family. I get a peek of a large crowd waiting for him before I'm put in my own room. It's empty, and I know that Mom and Grandmama and Grandaddy are going to take a while getting here because they walk so slow. Ten minutes after I first entered the room, they make it there.

"Oh, Lilly…" Grandmama can't even get the words out before tears overtake her. She clutches my hand and I can feel her hands shaking. I stand quickly and let her have my seat. I want to tell her that I love her and that everything is going to be okay, but somehow the words get stuck in my throat. How can I tell her that everything is going to be okay when it might not be? So the best I can manage is silence.

"Lilly, you have to be strong in there," Grandaddy tells me. He's taught me everything he knows about hunting and trapping, so at least I know that they won't have to watch me starve to death. He knows this, too. He also knows that if I can feed myself, it means I have a sporting chance.

"I will be."

"I love you, my beautiful flower," Mom tells me. It's her way of telling me goodbye without having to actually say the words. If she had to say goodbye, she would probably lose it like Grandmama, and I can't say that I would blame her. No one should have to bury their only child, especially after burying a husband.

We take the time to sit together, just being in each other's company for as long as we can. Finally, Andrew Wilson-Webbster appears in the doorway, telling us in his velvet voice that it's time for me to go. I nod and stand, trying to find the strength to leave them. They're all I have in the world, and on the other side of this door, they're gone. Mom hugs me, as does Grandaddy. It's Grandmama who can't let go.

"I have to go," I whisper, but she keeps holding on to me. Peacekeepers appear in the doorway and Andrew looks startled and alarmed.

"Miss Bane, it's time to go," one of them growls.

Before I have a chance to let go, he crosses the room and pulls me away from Grandmama, who falls to the ground. I see a look of shock on her face as she starts to gasp for breath. Her hands are shaking and she keeps gasping, like she isn't getting any air. Mom and Grandaddy rush to her side.

"Grandmama? Help her!" I scream, realizing that this isn't just a case of her getting up slowly. But no one moves to help. Instead, they all stand there, frozen. That is, until Andrew tries to step forward and is blocked. I keep kicking and screaming, trying to get to her, but there are more of them than there are of me and I just can't do it. Within seconds, I'm out of the room and headed for the train.

"Put her down," my escort orders them quietly. He gives me a very pointed look, and I realize that he needs me to stop struggling. With a sigh, I do so. "We can't have the cameras seeing you handling her like this in the train station."

As soon as my feet hit the ground, Andrew has a strong arm around my shoulders, guiding me in the right direction. A few minutes later, Rob rejoins our party—giving me a sidelong glance as he notices our escort's arm around me—and we head for the train. I can't help but wonder if this is the last memory that I'm going to have of this place, of my family. Is the last memory that I have of my grandmother going to be one of her gasping on the floor?

"Don't lose it in front of the cameras," Andrew whispers in my ear. "Just hang on until we get on the train. Then you can lose it all you want."

I nod, realizing that he has a point. I don't want to be seen as weak, so that means no crying or shaking or public hysterics. It also means that I have to shrug off his arm, however reluctantly. He gives me an understanding smile, and somehow, I make it to the train without losing it.


	13. Makeover: Fierce Survivor

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter; feedback keeps me going and pushes me to finish up faster. However, the end of the semester is upon me and I have a ton of schoolwork due this week, so I might not be able to update again for a while. That being the case...it would be awesome to come back to some reviews!**

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**Skylar Ridged, 16**

The train ride is long and, sadly, not silent. My district partner, Hadrian, has apparently decided that he is going to talk my left ear off, and possibly my right. He's not unattractive if he would just keep his mouth shut; unfortunately, he seems to think that he's charming. I tolerate it, but I don't think he's getting the idea that I really don't care about what he has to say. It takes a few harsh words before he finally realizes that I'm not interested in making friendly chat with the person that I'm eventually going to have to kill.

"Do you want to stop talking so that we can watch the reapings?" I finally snap. He stares at me closely for a minute, like he isn't really sure if that's what I really said. So instead of answering, he stares harder at me. "Fine, you can stare at me all you want, but if you decide you want to watch the reapings so we can study the opponent, that's where I'll be."

Hera Singer is sitting at the front of the car, holding the tape of the reapings. Beside her, our mentors are sitting side-by-side, neither looking particularly happy. Cresten Odair has a stack of notepads in his hands; his partner, Lissy Schultz, is holding the pencils. We're lucky—both of our mentors are well-liked and have been around the Games for a while. Cresten's thirty-five, and the son of Finnick and Annie Odair, both victors from previous Games. Lissy's thirty; she won when she was fifteen by trapping her opponents in nets and spearing them. It was a particularly bloody year—that's why she's so well-liked.

Without me even asking, they had me the supplies I need to take notes and we start to watch the other reapings. When the Capitol anthem starts to play, Hadrian isn't there. By the time it's finished, he's staring in rapt fascination at the screen, a pencil and paper in his hand. Lissy and Cresten are talking quietly, occasionally smiling at each other, though those smiles disappear when they look at us. Maybe it's because we haven't had a victor in a while; this year, they'll have something to smile about, though.

We start with District One; the girl is a pretty, red-haired volunteer, and the boy is tall and dark featured. She's a volunteer; the girl who was chosen doesn't stand a chance. I try to size up the girl with the terrible name—Satin. She's not really tall, but her legs are well-muscled and she's got a pretty face. That's going to come in handy with the sponsors. She's got long arms, which could give her a good reach in battle.

"Do you think she trained to take this girl's place or if she felt bad for her?" Hadrian asks me, taking notes.

"Both. She's got confidence, so she's not afraid of the Games, but she smiled at that girl. She's a career. What do you think of the boy?"

"He seems nice enough," Hadrian said lightly. "He seems like he knows the girl. They'll make an alliance."

"He's right, and you'd be smart to be in an alliance with them," Cresten says quietly. "It would give you a chance to take out the other competition while you figure out what their weaknesses are."

He's right, and in this moment, I realize that Hadrian and I would probably make a pretty good alliance ourselves. Yeah, I know that in the long run I'll probably have to kill him, but until then he seems like he knows what he's talking about. At the same time, I can't help but notice that he seems a little bit spacey. He keeps staring at the rest of us like he's waiting for something, like he isn't sure about us yet. I can't help but wonder what his problem is, but if he can keep it together, he'll make a good ally.

We go through the rest of the tapes, making note of the tributes that could cause us trouble—the boys from 2, 9, 10, and 12 definitely seem like guys to watch. The girls from 1, 9, and 12 definitely seem like they could cause us trouble, but District 2 is always a career district, so we'll keep an eye on her, too. It isn't spoken, but by the time all is said and done, I know we're in an alliance.

After watching the reapings, Lissy is almost cold towards us. "You need to look your best for the chariot rides, and that means not looking like a bunch of sleep deprived kids. Go hit the sack."

Hadrian does so without questioning. He's smiling at me as he walks into the room until the very last second, when I see him glance over his shoulder at me again, staring in horror. It's the same look that I saw on his face during the reapings; the look of someone who's paranoid, who thinks everything is suspect. I know that it could cause me trouble in the arena if I'm with him, but if it's too much trouble, I'll just snap his neck and be done with it.

I can't bring myself to go to bed yet. I know that Lissy is right and that I should get some sleep, but it seems like a shame to go to sleep so early when I can use that time to talk to my mentors. They've been in the arena, they know what to expect, and they're my greatest assets right now. Instead of going to my bedroom, I stay seated with Lissy and Cresten.

"So, what can I expect in the arena?" I ask.

They both look at me, and I can see the horror on their faces. Cresten is clenching his jaw like he's trying to keep himself from saying something. That's the face that my mom and dad used to have when I asked a question that they couldn't be bothered to answer. It's an expression that I've gotten too familiar with in my sixteen years.

"Skylar, right?" Lissy asks. I answer with a look that clearly demands that she remember my name. Mother and Father may have ignored me, but I'm not going to let my mentors do the same.

"Yeah. Skylar Ridged."

"Well, Skylar Ridged, you need to go to bed. You've been a tribute for all of six hours, and you already look exhausted. Go to bed so that you'll be well rested and looking your best when we get there," Lissy tells me coldly.

"But I—"

"Go to bed, Skylar." Cresten sounds almost…angry. The dark circles under his eyes tell me that he's been without sleep. Lissy has the same circles. I don't understand; they have huge houses in Victor's Village. They don't want for anything. How can they be so bitter when they have everything that they want?

"I need you to help me understand—"

"You will never understand. No matter what we tell you, you will never understand until you're there. There are Gamemakers who study your every move, who find your weaknesses and play with them for their amusement. Until you go through that, you won't be able to understand. So stop trying and go to sleep," Cresten snaps.

Everything about him screams violence: the tears of anger in his eyes, the way that his fists are clenched, the way that his knuckles are white. I can see the tension in his muscles, and the way that he's shaking with uncontrolled rage. This is probably a good time for me to exit. I make my way to my compartment, but I can still hear them talking.

"You were hard on her," Lissy says quietly. "She doesn't understand what she signed up for."

"Exactly. She volunteered for this—"

"So did I."

"And you didn't know what you were getting into, either. They'll never understand, not until they get in, and there's no way that they—" Cresten can't finish his sentence before Lissy is cutting him off again.

"Cresten, we'll just have to do the best we can, like we do every year. Skylar seems like a feisty one, and I know for a fact that the Helm boys have been training for years. Our kids have a chance this year—"

"If we can get Hadrian sober."

"God, the kid reeked, didn't he? We'll talk to him at the makeover center. Let's hit the sack."

Cresten is silent for a long time before he finally answers. I wish I could see his face—that familiar, nearly perfect face. Finally he sighs and says, "I don't want to sleep alone, Lissy."

"Me either."

And then their voices are gone. It doesn't make any sense; these are the best of us and they're not at all like I expected them to be. Cresten…resents me. Doesn't he see that I'm just like him? I've trained for years for this moment, just like him. I'm going to take the Capitol by storm and be the biggest thing since Finnick Odair; maybe that's the problem. Maybe Cresten is pissed because he never quite lived up to daddy's reputation; he's probably got too much of his mom in him.

While I'm contemplating Cresten and Finnick and Lissy, I climb into bed. It's surprisingly easy to fall asleep, despite the fact that I'm on my way to a place where I'll have to slaughter other people. I try to think of it as being on my way to fame and glory because that's what happens to victors. These jaded people that are my mentors are the exception to the rule; they have to be. I fall asleep thinking of the way that I'll be greeted in the Capitol after my victory…

That's what I'm still dreaming about when Hera wakes me up hours later. I quickly pull on my clothes and make my way to breakfast, which is more food than I have ever seen in my life. Well, I've seen a lot of fish in my lifetime, but this food is actually appealing. I tear into the assortments of pastries and meats, and before long, I'm full. Cresten and Lissy are silent throughout the entire breakfast. Finally, when we get to the end, they speak.

"Your stylists have been around for a while, so they know what they're doing. They also know what the Capitol wants to see, so you listen to them. When they wax you down, don't complain. When they want to put you in a pair of pants so tight you think it's going to render you infertile, you let them. This is your first appearance and the most important. Don't screw it up," Cresten tells us.

Hadrian nods. I'm assuming that they've already had their chat with him because he looks considerably more solemn this morning. Of course, that could be because it's morning and no one really likes those. And as much as I find myself disliking Cresten, he knows what he's talking about, so I decide it's probably best to listen to him.

"As for you two, you're going to need each other. I'm not saying that you have to love each other—or even like each other—but in front of the other tributes, you need to have a united front. Make it clear that you are going to stay together in the arena—because you need to if you're going to survive. And tonight, you need to let the people of the Capitol know it, too. Do you understand?" Lissy says. She isn't as harsh as Cresten, but she's not happy by any stretch of the means.

We both nod, and then are shown to the Remake center. Before we're pulled away from each other, Hadrian smiles his mouthful of metal teeth and says, "I'll see you in the chariot." I don't bother to answer.

Before I know it, I'm being stripped down and examined from head to toe by a group of scarily tattooed and colored people. There's a short, fat woman with golden—literally, golden—hair and matching tattoos on her face; there's a tall, thin, bird-like man that has nails like talons; there's a shorter, smaller woman with wide eyes and white skin. They're chattering uselessly and I try to tone them out as they do whatever they've decided to do.

My stylist barely says a word to me, and I can see why Cresten said that she's been around for a while; she's got to be nearly fifty—and that's with all the plastic surgery that I'm sure she's had. She takes one look at me, orders them to take care of all that hair, and then to call her.

I'm waxed from head to toe; every hair from my neck down is removed, and then my face is waxed, too. Suddenly, my eyebrows have arches, though I'm not sure if arched brows are worth the pain and aggravation of being waxed. They wash and dry my hair before calling my stylist—who has yet to introduce herself to me—back in.

"What's your name?" the stylist asks.

"Skylar Ridged and—"

"I know, I'll see your name in lights one day. I'm Kilma. Now, let's talk about what you're going to wear. Your mentors tell me that you and your partner are to present a united front, yes?"

I nod, unsure of exactly how to respond to this woman. I can't really say that I like her tone, like she's seen it all before and is just too busy to take the time for me. No, I don't really care for her, I've decided.

"You'll be dressed similarly. The mermaid theme has been horribly overdone, and I refuse to stoop to sending you out there naked, as lovely as you may be. So we're going to go for shipwrecked survivor. You're to look strong and fierce despite the fact that we're going to make you look like a mess. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. You could be a bit more civil though, don't you think? Clearly no one taught you that you catch more flies with sugar than vinegar."

"They _clearly _didn't teach you, either," she answers. Turning to her team, she orders, "Go to work."

And then, somehow, within an hour, they have me looking fantastic. My dress looks like it was made out of the mast of a ship that I wrapped around myself and tied off with a rope. In actuality, that's exactly what they did. My brown hair is loose and wild around my face. My face is covered in makeup, and my eyes look even bluer than they did before. I look stunning.

I'm not sure how they've managed it, but Hadrian doesn't look so bad himself. Well, for a guy with metal teeth and a drug problem, anyway. They've put him in a linen shirt, complete with tears in strategic places—after all, we'd hate for the audience not to get an eye full. His coppery hair is wild, which means that it looks exactly like it did this morning.

"Fierce survivors, huh?" he asks with a smile as he helps me into the chariot.

"Apparently. You ready?"

"Born ready."

Then the doors open and we enter the Capitol for the first time.


	14. Chariot Rides: Living it Up

**Author's Note: Yes, I am a terrible person. I made you wait far too long for this chapter, and I'm so so sorry. These past two weeks have been absolutely insane for me, but I'm done for the semester now, so I should be able to update more frequently. So thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and please keep it up!**

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Charlotte Perry, District 11

As soon as the doors open and we enter the Capitol, I'm blinded. The lights are too bright. When we have to watch the chariot rides on the television, they never look this bright. It takes all I have in me to keep my eyes open and a smile on my face. My palms are sweating, and I'm gripping the side of the chariot in a fierce, white-knuckled grip. My district partner—Cadogan—looks just as nervous as I do, but he's hiding it behind a smile while I'm struggling not to throw up.

Of course, he could be smiling because of how ridiculous we look. We're in togas—_togas!_—with apple blossoms and grapes in our hairs. The stylists have drawn fruit vines up and down our arms and on our faces. My hair—which is normally long and stringy and hangs to my elbows—has been swept up and curled. My stylist said that they were going for a Grecian earth-mother vibe, but I'm mostly feeling like a plucked chicken. They waxed off nearly every hair on my body that wasn't on top of my head, and I'm feeling next to naked because this dress is cut up to wazoo.

"Are you okay?" Cadogan whispers to me. I want to distrust him because in a few short days, we're going to be trying to kill each other, but his voice is so sincere that it's hard. He's giving me a reassuring smile, like there aren't millions of people staring at us and trying to figure out how fast we're going to die.

"I'll survive," I whisper back, a small smile spreading across my face. He's looking at me with those puppy dog eyes, and it's hard not to trust him. If Emma and Grace—the best friends a girl could ask for—were here, they would remind me that he was completely "dreamy." He's cute, I'll give him that, but a bit too old for my taste. And a bit too serious, though, I think.

"Okay, then. Let's smile for the cameras."

So we do. We smile and wave like we're not at all worried that we're going to be dead within the week. After a bit, my eyes adjust to the bright lights and I can see the other tributes in their chariots. After seeing everyone else, I can take comfort in knowing that we're not the worst looking group in the processional. We're not the best-looking, either, but we're not bad. Since most of the time our group ends up being dressed up in big fruit costumes, I figure we'll be memorable.

The worst groups are districts two and seven. The District Two kids have been painted grey and are dressed in next to nothing—she has on a bra and underwear, and he's wearing just his underwear. From a distance they look stark naked; I had to squint to see their underwear. I know for a fact that District Two doesn't produce naked people, so I'm not really what the point is.

District Seven kids aren't dressed as trees, surprisingly, but they still look retarded. They're dressed from head to toe in white; the lumber from the district goes to make paper, so I guess that's what they're supposed to be. But the white makes them look too skinny, though most of us a pretty skinny. What makes them look so scary—the girl in particular—are the looks on their faces. The girl looks like she would chop off your head and play soccer with them. It's not a good look for her. And the poor boy looks like he's scared out of his mind. Of course, if I had to be that close to Scary Girl, I would be terrified, too.

"What are you staring at?" Cadogan whispers to me again, still smiling.

"The scary chick from D7."

"Yeah, let's avoid her, okay?" he answers, and I wonder if this is his attempt at starting an alliance. I don't answer him; I need to get a better look at everyone else before I make any decisions, though I have to admit that I don't think I'll be able to kill the puppy dog faced boy from home. My best bet is to run as far as I can in the opposite direction and hope that someone else does it for me.

Instead of confirming or denying an alliance, I decide to change the topic. "I feel retarded in this dress."

"You feel retarded? I'm a guy in a dress," he replied, still smiling and waving. I try not to laugh, but I can't keep it all in, and it comes out in a snort. "Besides, we could look like the poor souls from D5."

I glance at them in their DNA printed body suits and am eternally grateful that I'm not wearing that. It isn't as bad as D7 or D2, but it's still pretty sad. The best costumes are on the kids from District One and District Four, though the jury is still out on Ten. The onesies are wearing what looks like elegant evening clothes, studded with diamonds and spikes. They look fierce and beautiful, like they could take on the world. They're hand-in-hand and whispering in each other's ears, laughing with each other, though the dark eye makeup makes them both look a bit wicked.

District Four are dressed like survivors of a shipwreck, and they look strong and capable. Their outfits say "we can improvise and we're not to be underestimated." But then, they're from a career district, so I'm not really sure how we could overlook them.

I'm not really sure how I feel about District Ten's costumes. District Ten is livestock, but for the first time in a long time, they aren't dressed like cows. Instead, they're dressed like people from the Old West, back before Panem existed. He's tall and dark in pants and leather chaps, complete with a cowboy hat and boots with spurs. She looks like a tiny doll, dressed in an old fashioned dress, complete with a bustle and petticoats. The more I look at them, the more they grow on me.

I glance at the District Eight chariot and realize that things are not as they should be. The girl—Altheny, I think her name is—is looks terrified, like she can't possibly get out of here fast enough. Each time there's another flash of light, she flinches and looks like she's trying to fight back a scream. Her partner reaches for her, clearly concerned and trying to help her, but she quickly bats his hand away. He tries to hide the look of hurt on his face, but it isn't quite working. But then I see the girl grit her teeth and clutch even more tightly to the side of the chariot and she grins maniacally. Yeah, that's yet another tribute I won't be allying myself with.

And then—as soon as the whole affair seems to have just started—we're all disappearing into the training center. As soon as the doors close behind us, our chariot stops and we all start to depart. Cadogan offers me his hand and helps me from the chariot, which I'm grateful for considering the fact that I'm finding myself lightheaded and wobbly-kneed. Around us, other tributes are doing the same, and some of them are even talking to each other.

The tiny, doll-like girl from District Ten is approaching us, her long dress dragging behind her. The closer she gets to us, the tinier she seems to become. At first, I thought that she looked so small because her partner was so huge, but now I'm seeing that she really is just a very tiny girl. She has a large smile on her face.

"You look so pretty! I love your dress," she says to me, her eyes full of excitement. It's contagious and I can't keep a smile off my face. Beside me, Cadogan is grinning, too.

"I know, right?" he jokes. "I think it really brings out my eyes." The little girl giggles shyly, staring at him. I can see the beginning of a crush forming already, poor guy. I don't think he even means to be so charming.

"I like your dress, too. That color looks nice on you," I answer, not really sure of what else to say. After all, I can't tell her that she looks like a porcelain doll and is probably going to be the first to go. Well, I take that back. The first to go is probably going to be that sniveling waif from District Three. Her mentor had to pick her up and physically remove her from the chariot.

"Oh thanks. I'm Brie, by the way," the tiny doll says, extending her hand. I take it in mine and smile at her.

"Charlotte."

Beyond us, by the elevators, I can see the leather-clad, diamond-spiked tributes from District One standing in each other's arms, talking to the rock-hard tributes from District Two and the shipwrecked people from District Four. They'll be the career pack; if I want to get into a decent alliance, I'm going to have to start soon.

The pretty dark-haired girl from District Nine is making an attempt at conversation with the skinny boy from District Three. He doesn't seem all that responsive, but who knows? Maybe he's not really a smiling guy. Before I have a chance to say much more—or see much more—we're all being shuffled into the elevator to be taken to our rooms. Cadogan leans against the wall and sighs, clearly exhausted. I feel the same way, but I try not to let it show.

"That wasn't so bad," I say quietly, trying to make conversation.

"Maybe not for you. You're a girl; it's okay for _you _to wear a dress. At least not all of your…stuff is threatening to fall out."

I giggle. He's right. My breasts—small though they may be—are locked and loaded in this dress; there is no way that they're going to pop out and say hello. He's got on some form of underwear under his toga thing, but they don't exactly look…supportive.

"We'd probably get more sponsors if it did."

"True enough. But I'm just not really liking the idea of everyone in Panem seeing my…man junk."

"Man junk?" I ask, trying to fight back the giggles that are threatening to overtake me. "Man junk?"

"I've got younger siblings. That's how we told them not to run around the house naked. Keep the man junk in the trunk."

Every time he says "junk," I break into another fit of giggles. I can't help it; it just seems so silly. Here we are, standing on an elevator, talking about manly part and ridiculous dresses, when we could be dead within the week. It doesn't really seem real to me, I guess. It doesn't seem real that I'm going to wake up in the morning and try to make allies with other people to keep them from killing me. It just doesn't seem real that I could be—and most likely will be—dead within the week.

But that makes me all the more determined to take every moment of happiness that I have between now and then. These shared giggles and ridiculous conversations are light-hearted fun, and I'm not going to stop having them just because I might die. Cadogan seems like a nice guy, and I can't bring myself to be cruel and rude to him. He isn't my friends from home, but he's making this whole thing a little bit more bearable. He's the guy that I would approve of my best friends dating. I think back at home, we could have been friends. Maybe we still can here.

The elevator doors stop on our floor and open to reveal a beautiful series of rooms. There is food waiting for us—anything and everything that we could think of—and luxurious furniture across the room. For a moment, I'm stunned into inaction. There is so much luxury around us, such a difference from home, where we barely have enough to eat. But then Cadogan gently ushers me out of the elevator. Our mentors are waiting by the table.

"You should eat and then head to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day," Lindy, the woman, tells us.

Cadogan nods and grabs some food off the table before heading into his bedroom. I probably should, but the cushions in the sofa is just too inviting. So instead of doing as Lindy orders, I take off running across the room and dive into the sofa cushions.

Gotta live it up while I can, after all.


	15. Training Day 1: Not Who I Am

**Author's Note: Thank you so, so much for all of the lovely reviews on the last chapter. You guys are fan-friggin'-tastic. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and please review!**

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Esther Vesnina, 18-District 2

_The blood is pounding in my ears_

_And I won't show you my tears_

_Or the way that I become a wreck_

_When your hands are on my neck…_

The Capitol knows a thing or two about luxury, I'll give them that. However, their walls leave something to be desired. I have spent two nights with my district partner—not in the Biblical sense, get your mind out the gutter—and they've been peaceful. It's the mornings that aren't peaceful; the past two mornings, I have been pulled from my lovely dreams by loud, pounding baselines and strong guitar parts. I've seen Aim around the training center and he seems like a nice guy—he's got a killer sense of humor and a great laugh—but I would like him a lot more if he could turn the music down in the morning. Though, on the bright side, I should probably get up anyway.

I pull on a simple white tunic and black pants that the stylists have laid out for me—thank god this is better than that nasty "rock hard bodies" ensemble that they put us in last night. Though the one good thing to come out of that awful outfit is that it definitely gave us something to laugh about. I pull on the outfit quickly, brush out my long hair, and head out to breakfast.

Aim is already there, tearing into a pile of what seems to be French toast and tons of bacon. There's a huge assortment of jellies and jams and some sort of fruit thing that looks absolutely delicious. One of our mentors—Brando—is already sitting at breakfast, talking to Aim about weapons and training. Enobaria is nowhere to be seen; she's probably still asleep. I take a seat beside Aim and pile my plate high with food.

"Morning, Esther. Did you sleep well?" Brando asks, though he doesn't sound particularly interested.

"Yeah. Once I got all that grey paint off me," I answer quietly. I can feel a smile tugging at my cheeks and I'm sure that I look like a complete goon. I can't bring myself to look at Brando, who's probably frowning at me, so I look at Aim, who apparently didn't get all the paint off. There's a small smudge of grey behind his ear. "You, um…you've still got some on your…right behind your ear."

Way to go, Esther. That was smooth. He reaches back behind his ear and rubs, trying to keep get the paint off. Bless his heart, he's trying, but he keeps missing it. After watching him flounder for a few minutes, I lick my finger and reach for the grey smudge.

"Do you mind…?" I ask. I mean, not all people want someone else's spit on them. Although, we're about to go into the arena together, so I guess a little bit of spit doesn't matter when we're probably going to be bleeding on each other by the time all is said and done.

"No, go ahead," he answers with a grin. I gently scrub away the body paint that has stubbornly stuck to his skin. I catch him staring at me, and I feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Could I have missed a spot? Do I have something on my face?

"Do I have something on my face?" I blurt, before I can think any better of it. He grins at me.

"Not on your face." He licks his thumb and runs it gently over the nape of my neck. It's amazing how hands that have been trained to kill and destroy can be so gentle. I had expected roughness—like the way my dad would scrub dirt off my face—but I got a gentle touch instead.

"Oops."

At that moment, the door to one of the bedrooms bursts open and Enobaria makes her way to the breakfast table. She's something of a legend around District Two. She survived the third quell, and was one of the few victor/tributes that came out of the second rebellion on the winning side. And somehow, she's still around and coaching tributes—lucky me—at the ripe old age of seventy-six. Her capped teeth look out of place in her aged face, but they were her trademark and they make her look fierce. They don't let any of us forget where she's been or what she's accomplished.

"That's enough touchy-feely nonsense. Let's talk strategy," she says immediately. Aim and I both sit up a little straighter in our chairs. "You need to stick together."

I hadn't exactly planned on leaving Aim behind. I've seen him around and he's seen me; we're familiar with each other—or more so than with the other tributes—and familiar faces are going to be a blessing in this thing. I can see him studying me, and he's still smiling. I think that means that he's okay with us sticking together.

"You're going to need allies, and you're going to need allies that are as good as you are. This means the kids from One and Four, definitely. While you're in training, you make an alliance. I don't care what you have to do, just make those alliances. If you have to sell your firstborn son, you do it. Do I make myself clear?" Enobaria says, not letting Brando get a word in edgewise.

Yeah, Enobaria can be a little bit rough around the edges; she's from a time when she needed to be. She had to be strong in order to survive the Rebellion, and I can't blame her for that. But she has trained me since I was six years old, and I know her. Somewhere in there, she's got a softer side. It probably isn't _that _much softer, but it's there. She has been like an aunt to me; one of those cool aunts who teaches you all the stuff that your parents don't want you to know. She's looking out for our best interests, that's all, and if she has to be a little bit coarse about it…well, I guess that's okay.

"Yes, ma'am," we both answer quickly.

"Good. Now, are there any things that you don't know. I know for a fact that neither of you are all that skilled in edible plants or anything remotely nature-related. I can't blame you—our district doesn't have a lot of nature—but if you want to survive, you're going to need to look at that stuff. You're probably not going to make any alliances looking at the nature stuff, but at some point, you need to make it to those stations. Do you understand?" she continued.

We both nod, and continue to stuff our faces full of food until Lilah Pensworth appears and shoos us towards the elevator, reminding us of all the same things that Enobaria did—just in a less brutal way. The elevator ride is short and after a few moments alone with Aim are the calm before the storm. The doors open and I see the other tributes milling around. District One—a pretty, red-haired girl and a well-built dark-haired boy—are standing closest to the door. His hand is resting on the small of her back; they've clearly known each other for a long time.

"You think they're a couple?" Aim asks under his breath as we make our way to where they're standing.

"Looks like it. So if we hook one of them, we'll get the other."

He smiles at my words and then we're standing in front of them. Before either Aim or I have a chance to say anything, the pair from District Four comes over—the boy chattering away while the girl tries to ignore him—and does our job for us.

"We should make an alliance," the girl says. "I'm Skylar, and this is Hadrian."

There's a long moment as we stare at each other, studying each other and trying to make the decision about whether or not they're worth the effort. Of course, Aim and I have already made our decision; well, Enobaria made it for us. But we must make a great impression because the girl from One is nodding and extending her hand.

"Satin," she answered. "He's—"

"Azure," the guy finished for her, also extending his hand. I took it; he's got a firm grip and rough, calloused hands. His touch isn't gentle like Aim's was this morning. His face is so hard, and it makes me wonder if he's capable of any kindness at all. Beside me, Aim shakes Satin's hand and introduces both of us. Then the doors are opening, and we head inside to the training stations.

Immediately, everyone starts heading to the stations where they would be the most comfortable, which means that we naturally head straight for the weapons. Skylar and Hadrian go for the tridents—which is no real surprise—Satin and Azure head for the sparring ring (also not a surprise). I see Aim eyeing the light swords, but the girl from District 11 is already there. She looks like she's had some experience, but she's still struggling a little bit.

"Throwing knives?" I suggest, but he just shakes his head. "I'm going to go throw knives. Maybe you could keep an eye on what everyone else is up to?"

He grins—a wide, lupine grin that shows back teeth—and nods, clearly liking this plan. He heads off to play with knives or cleavers or some type of small, bladed weapon. I survey the room as I head towards the throwing knives, trying to look at the people I haven't seen before. The girl pair from District Nine are both at the edible plants station, and the trainer's brow is furrowed in frustration. Note to self: District Nine is not so great at edible plants. There is a pair from District Twelve at the archery station; her glasses keep slipping down the bridge of her nose, but it doesn't seem to be affecting her aim. I wonder how well her shooting would be without them. The boy is absent-mindedly playing with a small knife while watching her intently, like he's trying to pick up as much as he can. Every now and again, she will stop and show him something with the bow and let him try it. In exchange, he shows her something about the knife. They seem to be a solid pair, and perhaps a pair to keep an eye on.

The small, cute girl from Ten is following her partner around, and they are a picture of opposites. She is tiny and fair-skinned; he's tall and dark. He seems to be largely trying to ignore her—and anything remotely female—and she seems determined to make him pay attention to her. He is talking tentatively with the boy from Three, who's partner is nowhere in sight.

Before I can finally reach the knife throwing station, I see the girl from District Three. She's standing two feet inside the doorway, frozen like a stone. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, and she has clearly been crying. Her brown hair is brown and thin, pulled into a simple ponytail. Her hands are never still, always moving over each other nervously. I can't help it; it hurts me to see someone looking so terrified.

"Hi," I whisper. "I'm Esther. What's your name?"

She stares at me, eyes wide in amazement. She momentarily stops fidgeting and tries to force words out of her mouth. "A-A—I'm-m A-Aliss," she finally says.

"Are you okay?" It's a stupid question, I know, but I can't help it. It's out of my mouth before I can stop myself. She tries to answer with words, but she can't get them out. Finally, she just shakes her head. No, she's clearly not okay. "I'm going to go throw some knives. Do you want to come with?"

She shakes her head really hard and starts shaking again. My heart is breaking; I have seen a lot of scared kids—Enobaria has made me watch many, many tapes of older Games—but I have never seen one that is as scared as Aliss. Her fear is nearly incapacitating; she physically cannot move. She's so young, and it doesn't seem fair that she has to be afraid. Childhood should be about happiness, not fear. Even when Enobaria was training me, I was still happy. I still had a childhood. Aliss's is ending in fear.

"You don't like knives?" She nods. "Let me show you how to use them. Then they'll be less scary, I promise. You want to do that?"

She nods shyly, and I lead her over to the throwing knives station. I can see Aim across the room, staring at me. I know that he probably won't understand why I have to do this, but I can't just leave the poor girl crying and afraid by herself. So I start with a few knife throws, and let her watch. At first she seems afraid, as I had expected. But then I step back and show her how to hold the knife—I have to wrap her trembling hands around the handle the first time—and she stops trembling. After a while, she stops fidgeting and opens up. By the end of the day, she was smiling and talking to me, telling me about her family and all of her favorite things. She still couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a knife, but at least she wasn't afraid anymore.

As I step into the elevator with Aim at the end of the day, she smiles and waves at me. It's a sweet smile—heartbreakingly sweet. This little girl—because she is little; she can't be more than thirteen—is more than likely going to die. This sweet little girl—who likes clouds and butterflies—is probably going to die. I hope that when that happens, she doesn't feel anything. I hope that she doesn't see it coming and that it doesn't hurt. Anything else doesn't really seem fair.

"So, what did you find out?" I ask Aim immediately, not giving him a chance to say anything about Aliss.

"Satin and Azure have trained with nearly every weapon under the sun and are in nearly perfect shape. Skylar and Hadrian are the same, though he seems to have a problem keeping his mouth shut, and she thinks he's obnoxious. District Three boy stayed with the guy and girl from Ten, and they didn't really do much. The pair from six spent all their time a camo and shelter building. Sevens practiced with throwing axes, and the girl is downright deadly with that thing. She didn't miss once," he says, matter-of-factly.

"Great. I saw the Twelves practicing with the bow," I add.

"Yeah; the girl seems to be pretty decent. I think nine might have some skill with the bow, too. She kept looking over at that station, like she was waiting for them to leave. The girl from eight was showing the guy how to use those big wooden staves. She seems to be pretty decent with them, and he was catching on pretty quickly."

"Good. What do we want to do first tomorrow?"

"You'll get to deal with our allies tomorrow. Have fun, because they're definitely…interesting characters."

Just then, the elevator dings, and Enobaria is waiting when we get off. Before we can even sit down at the table, she's on me. For an old woman, she can still put the fear of God (or a higher being of some sort) in me. She is still fierce in her old age, and probably will be until the day she dies.

"What were you _thinking_? That girl is your enemy and you're teaching her how to use _weapons_? Have you lost your mind? Esther, I trained you better than this. What if everything is an act? For all you know, she's going to turn around and use those tricks that you taught her to put a knife in your back. You've endangered yourself and your partner, and at this stage, you can't afford that. When you get in the Arena, you might have to kill her. You might have to take one of those knives that you like to much and cut her open from hip to throat; you absolutely cannot teach her anymore!" Enobaria snaps.

Tears well in my eyes. I understand that point that she's making, but Aliss isn't one of those people. Aliss isn't going to gut me; if anything, she's far more likely to accidentally stab herself. But at least this way, she's less afraid.

"No," I answer quietly. "It isn't an act for her. She's completely malnourished; no career would ever let herself go like that for the sake of an act. She's completely terrified, and she's going to die. I'm not teaching her anything that's going to be dangerous to us. She isn't actually learning much of anything. The only thing that I'm doing is keeping her from being completely terrified—"

"Fear is a weapon, Esther, and one that you have to utilize. You use that fear to smother your competition. Right now, you're giving that child hope, which is the cruelest thing you can do. You let the others know that you're going to kill them, and you're going to enjoy it—"

"But I won't," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "I won't enjoy it. Death is what I do; it's not what I am. I'm good at it, but that doesn't mean that I have to make it terrible. Because I'm good at it, I have a duty to end things as quickly and painlessly for them as possible. I might kill people, but I won't be a fear-mongering monster."

This is more confrontation than I have ever had before in my entire life. I hate confrontation, and this one has left me feeling overwhelmed with a slight headache. As I retreat to my bedroom, I can see what might be admiration on Aim's face.

I wonder if that admiration is enough for him to turn his music down in the morning.


	16. Gamemaker Sessions: The Task At Hand

**Author's Note: I am super sorry for the delay in my posting. I'm trying to get all my grad school stuff finished, and it's killing me. Also, Christmas made things a little crazy, too. Anyway, I hope you all had a great Christmas and have a happy New Year. The next chapter is going to be interviews, so if you have anything that you want your character to do or say during their interview, let me know and I'll see if I can work it in. Please review!**

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**Ahlyce Pham, 14, District 8**

Today we're showing our skills to the Gamemakers. Ever since training started, Asher—my district partner—and I have been working on building our alliances, but how we score on the Gamemakers' sessions is really going to make everything more concrete. The only alliances that are already concrete seem to be the career alliances, and if I score high enough, they might invite me to join them. Part of me isn't really sure what I would say if they invite me into their alliance, because I know that they wouldn't want Asher. Asher probably won't be the most helpful in the arena—his one strength seems to be smiling and keeping a positive attitude—but he's from home and that counts for something, I guess.

Okay, so I'm being a little bit unfair to Asher. He's more than just a positive attitude. I saw him practicing his knife throwing in his bedroom, and his aim is better than mine. Well, with throwing knives, anyway. But Asher is probably the nicest guy I've ever met—outside of my family, that is—and he has something about him that is just so damn likable. I'm trying not to like him—I might have to slice him open from neck to navel in the arena—but he's making it hard. It's his people skills and my weapons abilities that have made our alliances, not mine. But today, we need to impress the Gamemakers to make sure those alliances aren't going anywhere.

I pull on the clothes that have been laid out for me—simple black trousers and a blue V-necked shirt—and head into the kitchen area. Asher is already there, and I can't help but notice that he's made two plates. _Two _plates? Damn, that boy can put away some food. Let's hope that he left me something decent.

"I heard you moving around in there, so I went ahead and made you a plate," he says quietly, pushing it towards me as I sit down. He made me a plate? It's a shame that this kid is going to die in the Games, because he would have made someone a damn good husband one day. I mean, really? He made me a plate. The only thing that would have been better is if he had brought it to me in bed.

"You're a damn saint," I answer. Our mentors—Frill and Berber—are sitting across the table, and they raise their eyebrows in surprise. Maybe it's because I should sound grateful but instead I sound…angry. I tear into my food like I haven't eaten in a week, which would have been true a week ago. I know that I probably shouldn't be stuffing myself like this; it's probably going to slow me down for my session, but I have gone to bed with an empty stomach too many times to pass up food.

"Today is your session with the Gamemakers," Frill says. It takes everything in me not to stare at her and say, "No shit." But with a saint sitting beside me, that's probably not really the best idea. "The best thing you can do is leave everything in that room. Don't worry about how you're going to look coming out of it, just do the best you can."

Her voice is encouraging, but condescending. Of course, we haven't had a victor in our district in for-friggin'-ever, so who can blame her. She's already comforting us, like she's telling us that it's okay that our best isn't good enough to keep us from getting killed. Well, I hate to tell her this, but my best is going to keep me from getting killed. I'm going to survive this, damnit. I've got too much riding on me to do otherwise.

"You two have chosen to form an alliance, yes?" Berber asks. It's a stupid question, because he already knows the answer. I guess the tension of impending life-or-death situations can make idiots out of the best of us.

"Yeah," I answer. My voice comes out sounding far more sullen and defensive than I had wanted it to. Asher is staring at me, hurt in his big brown eyes. My foot lives in my mouth, let me tell you. Damnit.

"Who else are you looking at?"

Before I can speak, Asher is answering him, and it's almost as if I didn't accidentally insult him. He manages to sound upbeat and positive, like there's actually hope that these alliances are going to save him. I really do hope that when the end comes, he doesn't see it coming.

"We were talking to the pair from Eleven—Cadogan and Charlotte. Then Cori from Nine, and Ithica and Reardon from Five," Asher explains.

"Okay. Here's the thing. Try to hold you alliance together, no matter how the training scores go. Some tributes do poorly on purpose, so don't let the scores fool you. Also, if you're approached by someone else about an alliance, you get them in yours. Don't leave yours to join there's," Berber says, his voice serious.

"Why the hell not?" I ask. "Especially if the other alliance is going to be more beneficial."

"Because the best way to paint a bright red target on your back is to spurn your old alliance. If you leave them at this stage in the game, they're going to see it as an insult and the best way to prove that you were wrong is to kill you."

Right. Don't leave my alliance. So much for joining the careers. But then, I'm pretty sure that I couldn't leave Asher—even if I have a terrible habit of accidentally insulting him. Tiberius—our escort—appears and ushers Asher and I into the elevator that is going to take us to the training area.

"Asher, I didn't mean—"

"Knock, knock," he says, completely cutting off my apology.

"Who's there?" If I've learned nothing else in the past few days, I've learned that there's no stopping Asher when he wants to tell a joke.

"Banana."

"Banana who?" I answer, humoring him.

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock, knock." He's laughing, unable to stop himself as he continues his ridiculous joke that isn't really all that funny. What's funny about the joke is that it's bad, not that it's actually funny.

"Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange who?"

"Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"

"Hell yes," I answer. "You ready to do this?"

"Yeah," he says with a smile. He's always smiling. I really think that when he dies, he's probably going to have a smile on his face. "We'll be fine."

When the elevator doors open, our allies are already waiting for us. Cadogan is asking Ithica about children's stories that he could tell his siblings, and Cori is listening in intently. Charlotte is talking to Reardon, who has managed to crack a slight smile at her "carpe diem" attitude. For being a group of kids that's probably going to end up killing each other, we sure as hell have a good attitude about it. Go us.

"Hey, Ahlyce. Did you sleep well?" Cadogan asks.

Truthfully, I didn't' sleep worth a damn. Ever since we've gotten to the Capitol, we've had camera's flashing in our faces almost constantly, and it brings on memories of the worst moment of my life. The lights are flashing in my face and all I can think about is how bright it is, just like fire is so, so bright. The way that fire is so, so bright and so, so hot and the way it makes people scream and scream. I hear their screams in my head, and it carries over into my dreams. And when my dreams are haunted with the smell of burning flesh and knowing that I'll never see my parents again…it doesn't exactly lull you to sleep. So, no, I didn't sleep well.

"Yeah, I slept fine. The beds here are great, don't you think?"

"They're great," Charlotte says excitedly. "I was asleep the minute my head hit the pillow last night. It was great."

"Your snoring was less great," Cadogan grumbled, though the smile on his face says that he's joking. "I'm just kidding. I couldn't hear you snoring."

"I'm not kidding," Asher cuts in. "Ahlyce snores so loudly I can hear her through my door and hers."

I let him have his laugh, and choose to ignore the joke at my expense. I'm going to survive this, and then it won't matter how many jokes he made about me. I think he must have noticed that I don't find his joke that amusing, because he gives me an apologetic smile and falls silent. Cori starts talking to Cadogan, trying to cover the awkwardness, but the tension is still there.

The careers are standing around by the door, studying us like slabs of meat hanging up in a butcher shop. I can't say that I particularly like any of them simply on the principle of the fact that they have spent their lives learning to kill people like me in new and creative ways. The biggest problem is that they've probably got a shitload of sponsors because they're all pretty good looking. But that won't matter in the end. Good looks won't save them.

The only other people who look like they're in an alliance are the pair from Ten—Monty and Brie, I think—and the boy from Three. Monty looks like he would probably kill Brie himself; she's been following him around like a lost puppy since the minute they showed up, and he's clearly not all that fond of her. I'll be surprised if she makes it past the bloodbath. Same thing for the girl from Three (I've dubbed her Sniveling Mess); if she makes it past the bloodbath, I'll eat my socks. The girl and guy from Twelve are chatting with the boy from Seven. His partner seems to be more focused on staring at Cori than she is on anything else. I'm not going to lie, that girl—Ace—is a scary bitch.

One by one, each of us makes our way into the Gamemaker's room. The girl from One goes first—Satin, what a stupid name—and comes out looking fairly satisfied. Her partner looks the same when he comes out, though slightly sweatier than when he went in. The tributes from Two are the same way; the boy has that damn infuriating half-smile on his face all the damn time and the girl is ridiculously nice. She is actually holding Sniveling Mess's hand when she's too afraid to make her way through the door to the room.

The Fours are pretty unimpressive, though the guy is talking even as he goes in the door, and is still talking when he comes out. I have a feeling that he would be giving his own eulogy if he could. His partner just ignores his chatter, though the nice girl from Two acknowledges him. Ithica is a nervous mess when she goes in, and looks the same when she comes back out. Reardon's face is a neutral mask, though he looks fairly satisfied when he comes out. The pair from six look like they're going to be physically ill when they come out.

Ace is the one that I really pay attention to; she looks completely calm and composed as she goes in, and she looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Since she's from Seven, I can only guess that she probably threw axes to her frozen, rocky heart's content. The boy from Seven looks petrified and I probably would too if I had a psychopath for a partner.

When I go in, I try to look calm and collected, but the lights are so _bright _and all I can do is think of fire and remember that awful burnt flesh smell. They're screaming in my head and I want more than anything to shut them out, but they just keep _screaming _and _screaming. _My mom's screams are the worst. I almost wish that Briyana was here to chase the nightmares away like she's always able to do, but then I remember that I volunteered for her. She's not here, my parents aren't burning anymore, and I have to job to do. With a deep breath, I push the screams to the back of my mind and focus on the task at hand.

The Gamemakers are staring at me, waiting for me to move. I pull a wooden stave off the wall and twirl it in my hand, getting the feel of it. I'm betting that none of the other tributes have used a stave before, so it will set me apart from them. By the time I'm finished with it, the practice dummy is broken, and they have to bring in another one. I've battered his arms into broken wooden splinters on the floor, and his head is cracked and hanging off to one side. They're all taking studiously taking notes, looking pleased with my performance.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins feels good. The sweat trickling down my face and back feels good and reminds me again that I'm alive. I'm alive and I have to stay that way, and that means being stone. My heart is racing, and I know that if I looked in the mirror, my cheeks will be flushed with exhilaration. This feeling—the excitement—I have to hang on to that. Hold on to that, and I'll stay alive.

The rest of the sessions are lost in a haze of adrenaline; I know that Asher is probably taking notes on their reactions, and he'll probably talk to our allies about what they did. It's stupid to take their word for it, but it's the best we're going to be able to do. As soon as we're free to go, I do so. The ride in the elevator back to the room is filled with Asher's joking and laughing, though he's the only one.

Later that evening, we take our dinner and sit down in front of the television to watch them broadcast our scores. We all take notes on the scores so that we can discuss later.

Unsurprisingly, the careers all scored highly. Satin Glossamer of District 1 scored a 9. Azure Kersting of District 1 scored an 8. Esther Vesnina of District 2 gets an 8. Aim Mannon of District 2 gets a 9. Skylar Ridged and Hadrian Helm both also get 8s. None of those are surprising. They're all careers, and they know their way around weapons.

Riden Snowe from District 3 managed to get a 7. That one was a bit of a surprise; I hadn't expected that much from him. I wonder what he did. Aliss Tonkin—Sniveling Mess—scored a 3. Not surprising at all. Ithica got a 5, and Reardon a 6. I was expecting more from Reardon, but he is from District 5, and they never really do very well. Georgia Wills from District 6 pulls a 6, as does her partner Shaun Wills. A brother-sister pair?

My picture comes up on the screen with a large 7 underneath it. Only a _seven? _Seriously? I tore that dummy to shreds. Its head and arms were hanging off. How the _hell _did I only get a seven? I can't stop myself from swearing loudly and creatively. Asher just stares at me, not really sure why I'm complaining. He only got a 6, so maybe he's a little jealous. But then, what does he expect? Every tribute who comes through can throw knives; it's not like he's special. As soon as the through crosses my mind, I feel guilty about it. He doesn't want to be here anymore than I do, and it's not his fault. He's just cut from a completely different mold from me.

"At least you did better than I did," Asher says brightly, trying to lift my mood. It doesn't work.

Ace scored a 9. No wonder she looked so excited. I guess throwing axes or whatever it was that she did must have been pretty impressive. Her partner, Jackson, gets a 4. I'm betting things aren't fun in their room right now. Of course, sharing a room with Ace probably wouldn't be fun no matter how well he did. Cori got an 8, and Simon managed a 6. Cori is going to be a good ally. Simon gets a 7. Monty from District 10 got a 9, but his partner only got a 5. I wonder how long that alliance is going to last. Quite frankly, I don't really care. Who knows, maybe I'll be the one to break it when I beat the hell out of one of them.

Cadogan managed a 4; I guess lecturing on edible plants probably didn't really do much to impress. I honestly figured that he would get at least a 5 because he's a good-looking guy; good-looking tributes always get the best scores. Charlotte got a 6. I'm definitely surprised that she did better than Cadogan, but I'm still preferring him in the long run. At least he isn't going to annoy me to death. Lilly Bane from District 12 receives a 7, and Robert manages a 5. I'm guessing that by the time they got to the end of things, the Gamemakers were bored and stopped paying attention.

"Alright, what are we thinking about these scores?" Frills asks. I rise from the table.

"I'm thinking that I'm too damn tired and pissed to care. I'm going to bed," I say, leaving the rest of the crew staring at me like I'm nuts. Who knows, maybe I am. After all, normal people don't relive their parent's deaths over and over every time they see something that remotely reminds them of fire. The stress of the day combined with the fact that the Gamemakers only gave me a damn _seven _sends me to bed early, where I dream of fire and screams and the smell of burning flesh.


	17. Interviews: Dynamite

**Author's Note: Yes, another update while I can. I don't know how frequently I'll be able to update coming up because as I said, I'm apply to graduate school. I'm also looking at the very real possibility of not getting anything in on time, so say a little prayer for me if you've got the time. Anyway, thanks for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter, and I hope you like this one. It's a bit longer, but I touched on every single tribute so you can get one last look at them before they get into the Games. **

**Also, I've put a poll on my profile so that you can vote on your favorite tribute. This will contribute to their survival time, so check it out. Also, please review!**

* * *

**Brie Sacinas, 12, District 10**

The interviews are tonight, and that means that it's another session with our stylists today. Monty seems pretty annoyed about the whole thing, but that's probably because he's a boy and I don't think boys really like playing dress up. Me, though? I'm excited. Last time they put me in the prettiest dress, and one that actually _fit. _I haven't worn clothes that actually fit me in a long time, and it feels nice for a change. And the dress was gorgeous. We don't have pretty things like that in District Ten. Not for people like me, anyway.

Monty and I have each spent our mornings with our separate mentors because he doesn't want to be coached with me. I'm not entirely sure what his problem is, but he's trying to avoid me like the plague, and he hasn't been very welcoming. We're district partners; district partners are supposed to stick together. Well, that's what most people do in the Games, anyway. So whether he likes it or not, I've been following him around, getting to know the same stuff. At least he doesn't openly hate me anymore; I think now he's mostly trying to ignore me.

We spent this morning getting coached for the interviews, and I think that Rena—my mentor—was a little mad at me by the end of things. Well, she said that she wasn't mad, just frustrated, but it all looked like the same thing to me.

"You're tiny, Brie. You can't just be nice. You have to show the audience that you can be sneaky. Show them that dynamite comes in small packages," she huffed while she was playing with her hair.

"But if they know that I can be sneaky, doesn't that make me…less sneaky?"

"When people look at you, Brie, they don't see a competitor. They see a kid who has probably never hurt another living thing. If you want sponsors, you have to show them that you can compete in some way."

So after that I tried to seem more sneaky and mysterious, but it just came out sounding retarded. And it's hard to pretend to like killing people when you really don't. I mean, I haven't ever actually killed someone, so I don't know what it feels like, but I don't really think that I would like killing people. I'm mostly trying to forget that part and focus on the good things about being in the Capitol—like the pretty dresses and the fluffy beds.

Finally, when Rena was at her breaking point, Horus appeared to take me to get made over. Monty spent the whole time looking down his nose at Horus; I think it's because Horus looks kinda girly at first glance…and second glance. He mostly just looks girly. But he delivered us into the hands of our stylists and then we were whisked away.

Junio is my lead stylist, and he's holding up a black dress that's a lot like the blue one I wore for the chariot rides. It has a fitted top part (he called it a bodice) and a big poufy skirt with a "bustle" (his word, not mine) on the back. The other members of my team start working on me while he gives the directions. Cicero is working on my hair; he's curling it into a bunch of ringlets that makes me look like doll. Cali is doing makeup; Cali isn't her real name, but she didn't like her actual name, so she shortened it. Persephone is working on my fingernails. All of it is almost fun; it's like playing dress up, which was something I didn't get to do at home. I almost forget my interview when they lace me into the pretty black dress.

When I see myself in the mirror, I realize that I look very different than I did in the blue dress on the chariot. They've done something to my eyes that makes them stand out a lot. Instead of looking like a china doll like I did on the chariots, I look…older. They've put me in black lace gloves and I look...sneaky. I guess they figured that if I couldn't do it with my interview, they would help me with the dress.

Before the interview, they take me back to a room where the rest of the tributes are waiting. Monty is wearing a fancy suit with a crisp white shirt and a funny black necktie. He's wearing a black cowboy hat, but it's different from the one on the chariot; it looks like he actually should be wearing it. He doesn't look like he's playing dress up. At least he doesn't try to lose me or say anything mean like he did at the beginning of this whole thing. He actually gives me a small smile; like, a really tiny one.

And then we're all be ushered onto the stage and seated in our chairs for the interviews. There are flashing lights and cameras everywhere, and it kinda reminds me of old-fashioned movie stars. I don't actually remember back when we had movie stars, but my mom says that her parents used to talk about them all the time. I wonder if this is what they felt like.

Satin Glossamer from District One goes first, and she looks so pretty. She's got red hair—kinda like mine, but a lighter shade—and it's fluffy and wild looking. They put her in a tight green dress that has sparkles on it and spikes on the shoulders. Her eyes stand out with lots of makeup and pretty earrings to go with the whole thing.

"So, how does it feel to be the first one?" Victor Flickerman asks her.

"Well, I figured we would start this party off the right way. After all, we're all looking for a good time, right?" she answers. The crowd seems to like her a lot, and they cheer. As the interview goes on, everyone can tell that she's a girl who likes to have her fun.

"We've all seen the way that you and your partner can't seem to keep your hands off of each other. Is there a blossoming romance there?"

Satin freezes for a split second, and glances at her partner, who's staring back at her. She gives him a dazzling smile before she answers. "Oh, I'd say it's definitely already blossomed." I can feel myself blushing at her answer, and I'm not even the one who's talking. How could she say that on national television? My mother would kill me (not for real, obviously) if I did that. But the crowd seems to like it.

"And how do you think that's going to affect things in the arena?"

She smiles again, but this time it doesn't look as real as the ones before. She's hiding something. "Well, if he's going to die in the arena, I figure we could have a good time before the lights go out."

Her partner is pretty confident, too, but he tries to steer clear of the romance with Satin. I can't tell if it's because he's embarrassed about her talking about their…personal lives on TV or if he just doesn't want to talk about it. Either way, Azure seems pretty confident in his own abilities. And the diamond spikes on his suit aren't just cool looking; they make the audience believe that he really is the best.

"You were chosen, and your district is usually a volunteer district. Why do you think no one volunteered for you?"

"Because they all know that I'm the best man for the job. District One has never had a better pair of tributes than we have right now," he answers with a confident grin. He seems nice enough in his interview, but I don't really think that I like him. He hasn't spoken to any tributes that aren't careers, and I think he'd probably kill me pretty fast.

Esther Vesnina from District Two is the complete opposite. I think that I probably would have been friends with her at home. Well, she's a lot older than me, so she'd probably be my babysitter or something, but still. She's _nice. _I saw how she was helping that girl from Three, and that's really cool.

"You seem like a really sweet girl, Esther," Victor says. "What would you say to those who think that you won't be able to get the job done in the arena?"

"I see it like this. Death is something that…it has to happen, but it's not something that has to be scary or painful. They won't ever see it coming, and they won't have to be afraid. Call me an angel of mercy, if you will," she answers quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of her light grey, form-fitting dress.

Aim Mannon is big, and I don't just mean that because I'm under five feet. The grey tuxedo that he's wearing only makes him look bigger. But he actually seems genuinely nice, unlike the boy from One. He hums a song that I don't know, but the Capitol people do. They all cheer when they hear it.

"So, you're a fan of music, are you?"

He grins; it's a big, wide grin. "I do. There's some really great music coming out of the Capitol these days. The guitar parts are great, and the baselines…they're really driving, you know? It's music that gets your blood pumping," he replies easily. He never stops smiling.

Aliss Tonkin never smiles. She's barely able to talk because she's stuttering so much. She reminds me of this boy back home who had a really bad stutter. It would take him a really long time to finish his sentences. The other kids used to make fun of him all the time; he never smiled, either. Victor finally calms Aliss down long enough to ask her about her favorite things to do back home.

"I-I c-could sit-t out-tside and watch the c-clouds. Th-that was m-my favorite," she chokes.

Riden Snowe from District Three doesn't smile either, not until he starts talking about things that I've never heard of. It's a mean smile, a smile that says "I'm smarter than you." No wonder his partner seems so scared all the time. He's probably been a jerk to her.

"Do you have any certain plan that you're going to use?"

Riden stares at Victor for a minute like he's stupid before he answers. "Let you plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt," he answers. I have no idea what he's talking about, and he looks like he knows that no one else does either. "Why don't you tell me what book that's from?"

"I don't know, Riden. What book is it from?"

"It's called _The Art of War_. It's been very valuable in traning."

Skylar Ridged from Four isn't a whole lot better. I mean, she's got on a pretty dress and earrings that look like tridents, but she's not very nice. She tells Victor, "We don't have dark alleys in District Four, but if we did, I'm a girl that you wouldn't want to run into in one of them." No matter how pretty she is, I want to stay _really _far away from her. Like, at the other side of the arena.

Hadrian Helm seems better. He's funny looking with his metal teeth, but when he tells the story about a bully who picked on his friend, it makes me laugh. He laughs while he's telling it, and I think maybe he's not so bad.

"Yeah, there was this kid—Ryan McCully—and he's not really the sharpest trident on the ship, if you know what I mean. So he's picking on my friend Riley and looks completely surprised when I knock all his teeth out. The only downside to the whole thing is that I ended up in speech class with him and had to watch him lisp his way through every word that had an 's' in it. Never picked on anyone again, though."

Ithica Stone from District Five talks about books, too. I think I that would probably like to read if we could afford books. But there's not really a whole lot to read in District Ten anyway. Ithica, though, is talking about a tree that gives and gives.

"And the tree gives the little boy absolutely everything that she has. And it's like…we're like the tree, and the Capitol is the little boy. Because the Capitol gets everything we have…" She trails off like she doesn't really know what she's going to say. I don't think that she knew anymore than we did.

Reardon from Five is the strong silent type. He answers the questions with one word answers. But at least he looks like he could compete. He's got a grumpy look on his face, and I don't know that I really want to go near him all that much.

Georgia Wills from District Six is a girl on a mission, and her mission doesn't involve a pretty dress. Her outfit screams "warrior woman." It's a metallic dress that looks like it's made of chain mail. I'm not really sure what that has to do with District Six, but at least it looks cool. She's going to keep her brother alive, no matter the cost. "I've always been a bit of a troublemaker, so we've always known that I would go first. But Shaun, he's a competitor," she says with a proud smile. Shaun just studies his hands intently, his face blank. No one's face is really that blank in real life, not without trying.

Shaun is wearing black pants, a matching chain mailish shirt and big clunky boots. Again, he looks like a warrior. He looks confident until Victor asks him about what he thinks of his sister's willingness to die for him. Then his face falls. He's quiet for a super long time before he finally says, "You know, I'll blow up that bridge when I get there."

The girl from Seven is beautiful. Like, I don't know how the same stylist came up with that awful white thing she was wearing on the chariots, but this dress is gorgeous. It's long and brown and so tight that it looks like it was painted on. They put a bunch of green make up on her face and it makes her eyes stand out. Doesn't make her look any nicer, though.

When Victor asks her about her "drive," she just stares at him coldly and answers, "I wanted what every kid wants: a happy childhood. But that was taken from me when my sister was killed by District Nine. So now I'm here for revenge, and I'm going to get my revenge it it's the last thing I do."

I glance at Cori and Simon, and they're both looking pretty calm, which is not how I would be looking if somebody like Ace had threatened me. I would be running as fast as I could in the other direction. I mean, like, super fast.

Jackson mumbles through his whole interview and I can't really hear anything that he says. The closer it gets to being my turn, the more nervous I get and I really hope that I don't turn out like Jackson. There's no way that anyone is going to want to sponsor me if I can't even talk right. My palms are sweating and I wipe them on my dress.

Ahlyce from District Eight is mad. She tells a story about how her parents and her aunt and uncle burned to death in a house fire, and now it's her six cousins, her little sister, and her. It's hard not to feel bad for her because I can't imagine ever having to be without my family. I mean, it was hard enough when Daddy died; I can't imagine losing Mom or Dianete.

"I volunteered for Briyana, my cousin, and now she's at home with seven mouths to feed. So, I don't really have much of a choice. I have to get back so that I can provide for them, and you can guaran-damn-tee that I'll do whatever I have to do that."

Asher is nice, and he tells funny stories about getting lost in his bathroom. He's really chatty, and it definitely puts everyone in a better mood. I mean, who wouldn't be sad after hearing about starving kids and dead parents. It's hard for me not to like Asher, even though I probably should because he isn't in my alliance. He gets a lot of laughs, which probably means a lot of sponsors.

"The bathroom is _huge_. It's easily the size of my living room at home, and there's all these buttons and closets and stuff. I had all of them closed and couldn't figure out how to get out of the bathroom. Finally, I just had to leave all the doors open and hope that no one walked by while I was in the shower!" he says, waving his arms around.

When it's Cori's turn, she looks very calm when Victor asks her about the way that Ace is gunning for her. Cori glances over at Ace like she's nothing…definitely not what I would have done. "My dad was a victor, and I know that's probably painted a bright red target on my forehead. I know what's expected of me, and I know what I have to do win, and I'm not going to let anyone throw off my game."

Her partner's interview is pretty similar. "I'm not afraid of the big, bad wolf," he says, staring right at Ace. I'm definitely wondering how smart these kids are because I'm not really sure that making Ace any madder than she already is would be a good plan.

And then it's my turn. I'm not really sure how I got to the stage—it's all one big blur—but when I get there, I sit in the chair and have a chat with Victor. He's a really nice man, and from the minute he shakes my hand, I completely forget that there's thousands of people watching me.

"So, you're the youngest tribute here, Brie. How does that feel?"

"I don't know. I don't really know what it feels like for the other guys, but I'm having a pretty good time. I've gotten to meet a lot of new people," I answer, letting my tongue run away with me before I can think better of it.

"So, are you nervous about the Games?"

"I'm a little bit nervous, but I think I've got a few tricks up my sleeve…well, up my glove, really."

He laughs at my clever little joke, and so does the rest of the Capitol. He starts to ask me about home and I tell him about the time my sister, Dianete, and I got chased by a goat. They're laughing, so I just keep going and going and letting the story continue. Finally, the bell rings and tells me that my time is up. My applause isn't as loud as it was for some of the others, but it still feels really good. They're clapping for _me!_

Monty is next, and he looks even bigger than he already is next to Victor. He looks almost a little scary—tall and dark and strong and stuff—but then he smiles and seems nicer. I wish he would smile at me instead of trying to ignore me. Oh well.

"My plan is to make sure I'm pissing clear," he says when Victor asks him what his game plan is.

"To what?" Victor looks kinda shocked, like he doesn't really know what to say.

"A lot of tributes have died of dehydration. When your piss is really yellow, that means that you're dehydrated. So my plan is to make sure I'm always pissing clear and everything else will be manageable."

"Okay…that sounds like a good plan," Victor answers. Luckily for him, Monty's time is up.

Charlotte from Eleven tries to be lighthearted, but she mostly looks dumb. She keeps giggling and talking about how great _everything _in the Capitol is. But that doesn't really make sense because the Games are not great. But whatever. She seems kind of wacky, but that might be the cameras making her nervous. I don't know.

Cadogan Sopheap—funny name—is next. He's pretty good-looking, even though they have him wearing some kind of weird fruit thing on his head. He talks quietly but easily, like he's not nervous at all. For being from a district that hasn't had a victor in a long time, he seems pretty laid back.

"Do you think you have a chance?" Victor asks.

Cadogan looks almost surprised at the question, like it's rude. I guess it is, a little. I mean, I wouldn't be asking someone if they actually thought they were going to survive. I mean, I think all of us are trying to think that. I know I am.

"Of course I do. I think we all do. The saying is "may the odds be _ever _in your favor," right? I like to think that they are," he answers calmly.

"Why do you say that?"

" Of all the people in D11 that could have been chosen, I was. I think I have a better shot than a lot of them do. And I like to think—_need _to think that all things happen for a reason. I'm not really sure what that reason is yet, but I need to believe that something good can come out of this. So I'm not really happy about being away from my family, but maybe there's a bigger picture or something." The bell rings, showing that his time is up. "Thank you for your time."

Lilly Bane from Twelve is up, and with her glasses perched on the end of her nose, she looks like she's a pretty smart person. Then she starts talking and proves it. She's kinda cold, but funny at the same time. I don't really know how she manages it, but she does.

"If anything, I'll have an advantage over the other tributes because we're used to going without food in District 12," she says. There's a really sharp smile on her face, and I don't think that I would want to make her angry. "And we're used to getting the short end of the stick, so it's not really surprising that it would happen to me."

Her partner, Robert, looks comfortable…like he belongs up there. He leans back in his chair and chats with Victor, telling him about all the ways that he's been relaxing in the Capitol. The crowd is hanging on every word that he says, completely smitten with him.

"There are a lot of ways to relieve stress here. I mean, I get to beat up other people and play with weapons. Isn't that every teenage boy's dream?" he asks the audience. They all yell out their approval. I wish they had done that for me.

"So you're really as relaxed as you seem?" Victor comments.

"Well, I figure that I'm either going to die or I won't. But at this point, there's no sense in stressing about it. Whatever happens, happens and I'll deal with it when it does."

I wonder if he's right. If we're going to die, should we be worried about it? I've tried not to think about it, because if I do, I know that I'll start crying. But there's not really a whole lot I can do now. I'll play the game the best that I can, and if I die, I die.

No, that's crap. That feels like giving up before the Games ever start, and I won't do that. As I climb into my bed, I decide that I'm going to do whatever I have to do to stay alive for as long as I have to do it to. I might be little, but I have a chance.

Dynamite comes in small packages, after all.


	18. Cornucopia: Red Rock and Blue, Blue Sky

**Author's Note: So, here's another chapter. I tried to get it up before I left for vacation, but it didn't happen. I hope that it is worth the wait, so let me know.**

**Aliss Tonkin, 13, District 3**

"Aliss, it's time to wake up!"

There's a voice that's waking me up, but it isn't Mommy's. It's too low and loud and I don't like it at all. A clawed hand wraps around my arm and starts shaking me awake. It's way too hard and way too tight and I think that it must be a monster here to take me away into the dark. I squeeze my eyes shut so that I don't have to see it; maybe if I just keep my eyes closed, it won't hurt as much.

"Aliss, today's your big day! You've got to get up."

When I open my eyes, I see a dark, scary face leaning over me. He's smiling, and his teeth are white and sharp-looking. He doesn't make me want to get out of bed; he makes me want to curl back up into a ball and sink down into the big, fluffy bed that makes me feel so, so safe. Getting out of the bed means letting go of the dream I was having, and I can't yet.

_I was at home, sitting on my bench with Check and staring up at the sky. My feet don't touch the ground, and they swing lightly back and forth as I look up. I've heard that it's really blue in some of the other districts, but I've never seen one in District Three. We're the factory district, and instead of seeing trees or pretty sunsets, we've got smoke. But the smoke curls around and makes patterns against the white clouds, and is prettier than anything I've ever seen. _

_"Look at that one," I told Check. "It looks like a bunny."_

_"No, it doesn't. It's a duck," he answered, pointing._

_I twisted my head around, trying to see what he's seeing, but it still looks like a bunny to me. "Nope. It's definitely a bunny."_

_"No, it's a duck. See, there's his bill and that's his flippy duck tail."_

_Check sounded so silly, but then, we were arguing about cloud shapes. I couldn't help it, and I collapsed into a fit of giggles right there on the bench, kicking my feet in delight. My brother laughed at me before pulling me off the bench and we head for home…_

"Get up, Aliss. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and today is the most important day of your life!"

It's the last day of my life, probably…that's important, I guess. But I can't stay in the bed anymore, so I get up. Emeril leaves me alone to get dressed, and I take a minute to stare out the window. There's too much light in the Capitol to really see the sky, and there aren't any animals. I can usually see birds or butterflies flying at home, but there aren't any here.

I miss home. I miss it so much it hurts. It doesn't really matter that we have a house that's almost falling down or that we always go to bed hungry. At least we were all together at home. Mommy and Daddy could tuck me into bed with Viole and tell me a bedtime story. Check was always there to talk to, and if I ever woke up at night, his snores would lull me back to sleep. But there at home, and I'm here and I'll never see them again.

When I pick out my clothes, I don't really pay that much attention. They're just going to put me in something else, later anyway. So I pull on leggings and a fluffy skirt that reminds me of something that I would see in Quail's dress up box back home. She was a good friend…I wonder if she'll still come see Mommy and Daddy. Probably not. That would be weird and painful.

When I walk into breakfast, Riden is already eating. I'm not really surprised that he's not waiting on me; the minute that I met him on the train, he's been cold towards me. It's that way with most boys; I don't think that they would find a girl with thin, lifeless hair whose all skin and bones all that appealing. But he hasn't been kind—he's gone out of his way to be mean to me because he doesn't want us to make an alliance. I'm not pretty, but I'm not dumb, either. I can figure that out.

I can also figure out that no one wants to be in an alliance with me. Esther—the really nice girl from D2—showed me how to throw knives, but I'm still terrible at it. Knives and weapons of any kind make me nervous. My hands start shaking and my palms start sweating and soon I can't hold on to the knife anymore. It's like God is giving me a sign that I'm not supposed to use weapons. But at least Esther was nice enough to show me. I wonder if she'll be the one who kills me. A teeny tiniest part of me hopes that it is, just because I think that she would make it fast and painless. Like the Angel of Death.

Just thinking about the Games makes me start to shake all over and I can barely hold my fork. I want to shove food in my mouth as fast as I can, but I already feel sick to my stomach and I haven't even eaten anything yet. Riden sees how scared I am and he smiles at me. There's a clinging noise as my fork hits the tile floor and I keep shaking.

"Here," Kindle—my mentor—says, handing me the fork. I take it and try to think about home. Home is good and comforting and so, _so_, far away. Home. Home. Home. Home with Mommy and Daddy and Check and Viole sitting around the table with big smiles on our faces while we eat dinner that will always leave us hungry. Home with Mommy and Daddy and Check and Viole laughing while Daddy tells us a funny story.

Thinking about home helps me get some food down my throat until I get to the thick fluffy rolls with butter that melt in my mouth. Then I can't help but think about our breadbox at home and the little mouse that lives in it. I remember the time that I opened the lid and found the mouse in there. It was running across the kitchen floor and I stepped on its tail. It squeaked so loud for such a little mouse and I couldn't kill it. It was small and furry and kinda cute in a mousy way. I couldn't squish it, so I let it go and now we have a mouse with a crooked tail that lives in our breadbox. But all I can think about is that squeak and scared it sounded, and I can't eat anymore.

"Aliss, you should eat more. You'll need your strength," Kindle says gently. She's didn't seem very nice when she met me on the train, but she's been a lot nicer since then. I think it's because she knows that I can't possibly win.

"I-I'm not really hungry."

"You will be soon, though, so you should eat," Riden says. I can't tell if he's trying to be mean or helpful. His mean voice and his helpful voice sound the same.

I just shake my head and Riden shrugs. Kindle keeps trying to convince me for a little bit, but finally gives up when she realizes that if I try to eat anything else, I'm just going to throw it all back up. Finally, Emeril tells us that it's time to go. Kindle gives me a hug—a real hug with warmth that make me actually think that she might care a little bit if I die—that is comforting and makes me miss home that much more. Riden just has a bored kind of look on his face, like this is all just a big waste of time. I wish I could tell him that it's not a waste of time. Hugs and love are important and can keep you going when the whole rest of the world wants to knock you down. But then, he does have a point, I guess. No amount of hugs are going to save me.

Emeril shoos us into a hovercraft that will take us to the arena, and my knees feel like they're going to give out. It can't be time to go. I'm not ready yet. There are too many things that I need to say and do and hugs that I need to give and smiles that I need to smile. But there aren't any smiles or words…just tears.

I'm taken into a room where my stylist is waiting for me. They tried to give me a boy stylist, but I balled up into a little ball and wouldn't let him dress me, so they got another one. Her name is Mandela, and she looks like a monster. Her nails are long and sharp, and tattoos twist around all over her face. But she knows how scared I am, and she doesn't make me feel stupid, so she's better than just about anyone else that I've run into here.

"I've got your clothes, Aliss, and I'm going to make you look marvelous," she tells me with a small smile. It's a sad smile that doesn't go all the way to her eyes, like she knows that I'm going to die. But I guess everyone does. You would think that knowing would maybe make you less scared, because you're ready for it, but I'm not. I'm mostly just shaking and wondering why God would choose me for this. Why? I can't fight, and I can't win. How could my death possibly achieve anything for Him? I don't understand and the whole thing just makes me shake harder.

Mandela takes all my clothes and dresses me from head to toe in khaki. Cargo pants, a plain white tank top that won't stay white for long, and a long-sleeved khaki shirt. Thick, sturdy boots go on my feet. She takes my hair and braids it down my back, telling me how gorgeous I look the entire time.

"Where's your token, sweetie?" she asks quietly.

"I forgot one," I whisper, staring at the floor in shame. In the blur of the reapings, I didn't remember anything. I was too scared to think, and my family didn't give me one because they were too hysterical. So I have nothing.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have found you something."

She puts makeup on me, but I start to cry again and she gives up. She's been so nice to me, and I feel bad that she can't finish her job, but I just can't stop crying. I don't know how the other tributes manage it. I'm only thirteen years old. I like butterflies and clouds and chocolate. I still sleep with a stuffed animal; it's a little black and white bunny that I named Vinny. I've had him since I was three, and I have trouble sleeping without him. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to die right now. I should be at home playing with my little sister and my big brother.

"Aliss," Mandela finally tells me, holding my shoulders tightly in her talon-y hands. "Aliss, it's going to be okay. Just wait a whole minute before you step off your starting plate, and then run like crazy, okay?"

Kindle already told me the same thing, but I nod anyway. She's trying to be helpful because she feels sorry for me, I think. Mandela gives me another hug as she stands me on the plate that will take me into the arena. The plate starts to rise and I'm lucky that I haven't thrown up. Bright sunlight hits my eyes and I squeeze them shut, trying to block out the light. I open my eyes and can't see anything through the tears. I do feel an electric current run through my body that keeps me from going anywhere. It must also paralyze the muscles in my face, because my tears stop falling long enough for me to get a good look at the arena.

It's all bright red rock and bright blue sky. I'm standing on a rock platform with another tribute—the girl from seven—and we're way too high off the ground. All the other tributes are on platforms around the Cornucopia. It's bright and shiny and full of supplies, and it looks like safety almost, but I know that it isn't. The Cornucopia is on its own red rock platform that even higher than ours in the middle of all of the tributes, with stokes running out to each of the platforms where we stand. Suddenly, I hear the president's voice.

"In the first Quarter Quell, to show that the rebels elected to start a war, the Districts had to choose who would represent them. In the second Quell, to show that twice the number of rebels died for each Capitol citizen, twice as many tributes were chosen. In the third Quell, tributes were chosen from the existing pool of victors to show that even the districts' strongest cannot defeat the Capitol. In the fourth Quell, tributes were chosen from all ages to show that the Capitol controls all the citizens of Panem. Now, in the fifth Quell, to show that the Capitol holds all the keys to controlling Panem, the tributes will have to find the keys, so to speak, to surviving the arena. Good luck, and may the odds be _ever _in your favor."

Good luck? Is he serious? I wish I could be angry, but I can't. All I can think about is the fact that in fifty-five seconds, the Games will begin and Ace is going to be on me. I can't fight her off, and she'll kill me all slow and painful…like practice for those poor kids from D9. I'll be dead in the middle of all the red rock and bright blue sky. It's the first time I've ever seen a blue sky with white clouds, and it's so different from the grey sky and smoke that we have at home. Different, but beautiful. God, it's so beautiful…

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by thy name…"

I try to pray, but then I'm cry too hard to get the words out. And what should I pray for? A quick death? That Mommy and Daddy aren't watching and that Check won't have to see the bloody mess that Ace turns me into? A quick end…that's what I want. I just want a quick end to everything so that I can be in a place where this doesn't happen. Heaven doesn't have the Hunger Games. Heaven is for the nice people who never seem to win the Games, and I try to be a good person. I hope there's a place for me there. God will have a place for me I hope. Forty-five seconds.

I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks and the snot dripping from my nose. I can't stop it; there's nothing I can do anymore but cry. I try to think about something happy, something that's going to keep me from being so afraid. The first thing that comes to mind is Viole's birth. Mommy looked gross and sweaty because it had been a long, hard birth, but she had been smiling. Daddy was holding Viole and laughing, so so happy to have another little girl. I remember the way that Check had looked so nervous the whole time but was finally breathing and smiling and ready to be a big brother again. Viole had been a beautiful baby. She was bloody and screaming and gross, but then Daddy cleaned her off and she was beautiful.

I wonder if they'll have to clean me off that way. I guess it makes sense, right? We come into the world bloody, so we'll leave it that way, right? Birth is painful, so does that mean that death will be, too? I don't want to hurt. I can't hurt. I can't. Ace would make it hurt. I wish that I was sharing a platform with Esther. She wouldn't hurt me. Thirty-five seconds.

"_Just wait a whole minute before you step off your starting plate, and then run like crazy, okay?" _

There's a mine under the plate that will explode if you try to step off too early. But I'm already going to leave the world too early anyway, so what's a few more seconds? I can't let Ace hurt me. I can't, and this would save me, right? It wouldn't hurt? It wouldn't hurt. Twenty-five seconds.

I look at the sky, and there's a single white cloud. The blue, blue sky over the red, red rocks with a white, white cloud that looks like a bunny. It looks like a bunny. Fifteen seconds.

It looks like a bunny. I reach for the cloud and take a step—


	19. Bloodbath: Blood and Tears

**Author's Note: So, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Y'all are fantastic! This is the official beginning of the Games! I'm so excited and ready for your feedback. Also, I want to very quickly thank VividlyVisceral, who gave me the character of Aliss Tonkin (who broke all of your hearts last chapter) to play with. She was fantastic, so thank you Vivid!**

**And yes, this is a shameless ploy to get more people to check out my blog, but I am going to do it anyway. I've started a blog at livejournal so that y'all can follow me there if you so desire. I'll try to post updates about my updates as well as really awesome tea recipes and other general stuff there. So you should all check it out. There's a link on my profile. That being said, please review and Happy Hunger Games!**

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**Azure Kersting, 18, District 1**

I've never seen anyone disappear before. I guess I shouldn't say that the whelp disappeared, because she didn't. What's left of her is splattered all over Ace. I can't tell how much of the blood belonged to the whelp and how much of it is from the tiny bits of rock and bone that have torn into her. I guess it would be too much to ask that the whelp's explosion would have knocked Ace off her platform early; that would be one less tribute to worry about, and I am worried about Ace. Well, I was worried about Ace. I'm a little less concerned now that I see a large shard of rock sticking out of her arm and another out of her thigh. That will slow her down for a little bit at least.

Our minute is up, and I see Ace fall to her knees, gritting her teeth in pain. Blood is flowing down her whole left side onto the rocks, and she looks disoriented. Good. A lame target is an easier target. It's a shame that we're only two to a platform, because little Aliss could have at least taken someone else out with her. Who would have thought that the little snotty, crying mess would have started the Games out with a bang. Thanks, Aliss. Thanks a lot.

I'm sharing a platform with the guy from D7. He's a little slip of a guy, and I'm not really sure why they put me on a platform with him. Glancing down at the platform, I see a knife laying on the ground between us. They want a show. The Capitol wants a show, and they know that I can give them one with this little wimp. He sees the knife a split second after I do, and he reaches for it. I shove my forearm into his throat, and he falls back gasping. The edge of the platform is just a foot away, and with one more shove, he would be over the edge. But that's not what the Capitol wants to see. They want blood, and that's what I'll give them. It is called "the bloodbath" for a reason, after all.

So instead of pushing him over the edge, I climb on top of him and grab him by the front of his shirt. It takes next to nothing to pick him up and slam him into the ground, his head snapping back and hitting the rock with a satisfying thud. He's screeching in pain—a high-pitched, keening sound that no dignified man, or human being for that matter, would ever make—and I know that I'm doing this right.

The second slam makes a sharp cracking noise rather than a dull thud, and I see blood on the rocky platform. The obnoxious, undignified noise that was coming out of Seven's mouth stops—thank God—but he hasn't gone limp yet. His hands are pushing at my shoulders, but it's all useless. I slam him once more, and there's even more blood on the rocks. Finally, his eyes roll back into his head and his body starts to spasm underneath me. I've given the Capitol their show—plenty of blood on the rocks—so I take the knife and tuck it into my belt.

One island over, Tinny is fighting off the girl from Six, Georgia. Georgia clearly has no idea how to fight, but she's got a lot of determination and she's giving Tinny a fit. Skylar is across the circle from me, going at it with the girl from Nine, Cori. They seem to be pretty evenly matched, and I can see a long, thin trail of blood coming from Skylar's nose. There's blood on Cori's knuckles, but I can't tell if it's from Skylar's face or if she hurt herself. She's clutching the knife in one hand and forcing Skylar towards the edge of the platform. If I actually cared about her, I would try to go help, but I just don't care.

I look towards the Cornucopia in the middle, on its own raised platform. To get over there, I have to run across a thin rock beam. It'll be a pain in the ass to get over there, but once I'm there it will be fairly easy to defend, especially once we get more than one person over there. On the platform to the other side of me, Robert from Twelve starts to run, trying to beat his competition—Simon from Nine—to the Cornucopia. They're both bruised, but not bleeding, which means that they'll be tougher to take down if they beat me there. Shit.

But the minute that Robert takes a step off the platform, it explodes. Simon is gone, blood and viscera splattering all over me and the surrounding rocks. Robert isn't quite so lucky; there are bloody, mangled stumps where his legs used to be. He's hanging on to the edge of the spoke that would take him over to the Cornucopia, his breath coming in sharp, labored breaths. The knife that lay between Simon and Robert is untouched and clean as a whistle.

"_Now, in the fifth Quell, to show that the Capitol holds all the keys to controlling Panem, the tributes will have to find the keys, so to speak, to surviving the arena_."

And suddenly everything makes sense. There is a test we have to pass to get off the platform, and it has something to do with the damn knife that they gave us. No one else has tried to leave their platforms, but a few of them have picked up the knife. I freeze, trying to figure out what to do. I want to get to the Cornucopia, but I sure as hell don't want to leave my place early and get all blown to hell over it.

On the other side of the mess that used to be Simon, Hadrian is duking it out with Reardon, who is putting up quite the fight. I'm confused as hell about how Reardon even stands a chance because he's from District Five, which is wimpy as hell, and Hadrian knows his shit. But there's blood all over the platform, coming from both of them, it seems. Reardon was temporarily distracted by the explosion from Simon and Robert's platform, and Hadrian seizes his opportunity. He kicks Reardon in the side of the knee, bringing him to his knees. Without wasting time, Hadrian plunges the knife into Reardon's chest and drags it downward, opening him up from chest to hip. Hadrian smiles happily as he looks at the beautiful mess he's made.

"The Cornucopia!" I yell, pointing. Hadrian nods and takes off towards it. The minute he sets foot on the spoke to get there, there's a loud clicking and whirring noise. Hadrian darted backwards just minutes before the spokes connecting our platforms to the Cornucopia start to move, sending Robert falling into the rocky valley below. A blade drops out the bottom of the spokes start to spin in two different directions. They're rotating in a circle, trapping all of us where we are. On the bright side, Hadrian didn't blow up, so I'm guessing that whatever the key is to getting off the platform, it has something to do with blood.

"Blood! Blood is the key! There has to be bloo—" Tinny screams at me from her platform. Georgia takes the opportunity to sink her teeth into Tinny's forearm, but it barely phases her. She hits the other girl hard in the ear and kicks her sharply in the thigh. Georgia lets go, but swings hard at Tinny's face. Tinny ducks, grabs Georgia's arm and with a swift, hard blow, she snaps the girl's arm backwards. With one useless arm, Georgia doesn't stand a chance and Tinny finishes her quickly with a stab to the heart.

"Blood on what?" Skylar yells, trying to keep Cori at bay. She's looking pretty rough with a black eye and more blood coming from her nose. Cori's hands are bleeding, and entire left side of her face is bruising. Skylar looks like she's breathing pretty heavily, but then so is Cori. It's a shame that it's blood involved instead of oil. Oil would have been a lot sexier. I mean, that's the stuff skin mags are made of.

"It's either the knife or the platform!" Tinny answers loudly. Before Skylar can pick up the knife, Cori snatches it and rubs her bloody hands all over it. Before she can do anything else, Skylar tackles her and the knife clatters to the ground. Their blood is dripping all over the platform in a pattern of twisted dots and splatters. As soon as the blood hits the platform, a ramp extends down the side of the platform to the ground below, giving them an escape route away from the Cornucopia. They ignore it and keep fighting. I stop trying to keep up with their fight for a minute while we figure out how in the name of Zues's asshole we're supposed to get to the damn Cornucopia. Before I leave, I quickly jab the knife into Seven's side to get blood on the blade, just in case.

"We've got to stop the spinning!" Hadrian calls to me.

On the other side of him Riden is standing on a platform with Monty, and they're both in surprisingly good shape. Only then do I remember those sons of bitches have an alliance, so they're not going to fight and kill each other unless they absolutely have to. Damnit. Riden raises his eyebrows and glances at Reardon's body on Hadrian's platform; I'm not sure what the hell he's thinking, but he seems to have some kind of plan. And after the way he was quoting books and shit at the interviews, I'm thinking that he probably knows what he's talking about.

"Use the body!" Riden yells. Hadrian turns to stare at him, probably wondering what the hell Riden is talking about. I'm wondering what' he's talking about. Riden points to the spokes. "If you get the body wedged in there, the blades won't be able to move, and we'll be able to get to the Cornucopia."

But if we use his advice and get to the Cornucopia, it also means that we have to temporarily let him pass. I'm a mean son of a bitch, yes, but even I can see that this is what we have to do. Hadrian sees it, too, but doesn't seem to be happy about it, either. But we don't have a lot of options, so Hadrian tries to pick up Reardon's body. Reardon's a huge guy, though and no matter how strong Hadrian is, there's no way he's going to be able to pick him up alone.

I look at Monty, who's standing silently beside Riden. "Can you make the jump?" I yell, trying to make sure he can hear me. I guess he can because he nods silently. Without a minute's hesitation, Monty takes the knife into his hands and drags it across his palm. He smears blood across the blade before handing it to Riden. Riden doesn't really look particularly happy—I wouldn't be if someone wanted me to cut my hand, but then I killed my opponent, so it's not really my problem—but he drags the knife across his hand and smears blood on the platform. Then, without hesitation, Monty makes the short jump to Hadrian's platform.

It takes both of them to pick up Reardon's body, and in all the pulling and hefting, his insides spill out all over the ground. I'm not entirely sure what everything is—first aid has always been Tinny's thing—but it is making a damn mess all over the platform. I think I recognize his intestines strewn across the rock. Hadrian pauses a moment, fighting the urge to gag.

Ahlyce and Ithica are on the platform next to Skylar and Cori, and they've spent this entire time watching the fight on the platform next to them. It's a shame that the Gamemakers didn't pay more damn attention while we were all busy working our asses off to make alliances. Then maybe then they would know better than to put allies on a damn platform together. But it's just a suggestion. Ithica is clinging to Ahlyce, and when she sees the bloody mess that her partner has become, she drops to her knees and starts to throw up. The retching continues until there's nothing left in her stomach, and the platform is covered in half digested food. Good. All that breakfast she ate this morning in preparation for the Games is gone, and she's going to starve to death faster. If only the rest of her allies would stark puking.

Then, after a moment, they reach lift his body and heave it as far as they can into the center of the giant spokes that are keeping us from getting to the Cornucopia. The body wedges in between the spokes, and they come to a grinding halt. Seeing that she now has a way to get to the Cornucopia, Ahlyce starts to move towards the spokes, but then stops. She must have realized that she was about the get herself blown to hell without the proper blood sacrifice. Before anyone has a chance to stop her, she grabs the knife, wipes it on her cargo pants, and drags it across her upper arm. After a few minutes, the blood joints the vomit on the platform and Ahlyce starts to look for some way to get the puker out of the way. She covers her mouth the whole way. Guess the puke smell is making her queasy.

Before she can make it to the Cornucopia, I take off down the spoke nearest to me and beat her there. I grab the nearest weapon—a long, spiky mace—and swing it hard in her direction. She dodges and grabs a single pack and a long wooden staff before turning and taking off. Cori stops her fight with Skylar and takes off after Ahlyce.

Around the circle, others are starting to the do the same thing. The boy from Eleven is still trying to keep Aim at bay, and is failing miserably. The only reason that he's lasted this long is because he's just a little quicker than Aim. But the fight's almost over. He has his arm wrapped around the other boy's throat, and I can tell that he's about to snap his neck. But then a knife whizzes by, slicing open the width of Aim's shoulders. I glance over, trying to see where the knife came from. Asher from Eight and Shaun from Six are standing on a platform, staring. Asher looks pretty damn proud of himself, especially when Aim lets go of Eleven. Eleven makes his way over to where Asher and Shaun are waiting while Aim comes to join the rest of us—careers plus Monty and Riden—in the middle. All of us are here except Tinny.

"Tinny?" My heart is pounding in my ears; everything is loud and bright, and I know that the adrenaline that's coursing through my veins is keeping me from feeling any pain. I shouldn't be able to feel panic anymore, but I still can. She should be over here by now. "Tinny!"

"I'm here!" she yells back from her platform. She has Georgia's body slung over her shoulder as she tries to make her way across to the Cornucopia while still keeping her balance. The others can hold down the fort while we get this body across the way. Between the two of us, we get it done in no time.

"What the hell are you doing toting a body around?" I ask. Everyone else's faces are telling me that they're wondering the same damn thing.

She points to the where the spokes are starting to slowly cut through Reardon's thick body. Soon they'll tear all the way through the body and we'll be stuck on the island with no way to get free. We'll need another body to stop the spokes on the way out, and she's giving us the body. She's propping the body up when a noise from behind us makes all start paying attention.

"Georgia!" It's Shaun, screaming for his sister. Aw, how sad. "Georgia!"

He takes off running across the spokes and launches himself at Tinny. Esther steps in front of him and hits him in the abdomen. It's something that would have stopped anyone else, but Shaun keeps coming. He doesn't hurt Tinny—not that she would let him—but he pushes her away from the body and takes it into his arms, sobbing hysterically. He buries his face in its chest, not caring that he's getting blood all over his face. Snot and tears are streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the blood and making for one nasty picture.

All of us glance around at each other, offering Shaun to the others. He has to die—he's not one of us, and he sure as hell isn't useful—but I've already killed one, and so have Tinny and Hadrian. Skylar's looking a little worse for wear, and Esther is bruised as hell, so we let them have the opportunity. Skylar just shrugs and looks at Esther. Esther has tears in her eyes, crying for Shaun's loss. I'm not sure how she's going to survive these Games, especially when she can't stop crying over people who aren't even in our alliance.

Shaun's sobbing continues as he lays on the hard rock, still holding the limp, bloody body in his arms. He's still got the waterworks going and none of us have stepped forward to end things for him yet when one of his tears hits the platform. Slowly, the whirring noise stops and the spokes relax, dropping Reardon's body down into the valley. A loud crack echoes throughout the valley.

"Tears. That was the key to stopping the spokes. They wanted our tears," Esther whispers. She drops to her knees beside Shaun, who's still sobbing too hard to realize what he just discovered. It's sad, sure, but he's throwing his life away over this and I'm sure that's not really what she would want him to do. Oh well. "Thank you," she tells him before taking his head in her hands and quickly snapping his neck.

Riden and Monty are standing quietly off to the side, surveying the stuff that fills the Cornucopia. I can see that they're itching to grab supplies, and since they helped us out, we do kind of owe them. That doesn't mean that we're going to let them run off with all our shit, though. I quickly hand Riden two packs—a small one and a medium-sized one—so that he and Monty can he on their bloody way. Instead of going, Monty crosses his arms over his chest and stands his ground.

"We're the reason that you're over here . We get more than two packs," he says quietly.

There's a loud _click _from behind me, and I turn to see Aim clutching a small pistol in his hand. It's pointed towards Riden and Monty, and the blood has drained from their faces. They don't move, though, still determined to get away with more than two packs. Skylar pulls a trident from the stack of weapons on the ground and walks to the edge of the platform and points to where Lilly and Charlotte are wrestling on the ground below.

"I know that Lilly is in your alliance. If you leave now, we eliminate a mutual enemy," Skylar said calmly and coldly. "If you don't, we kill at least two of your alliance, maybe three. The math isn't really on your side."

Monty's face clearly said that he was ready to take what he had a run the hell away with it, and who can blame him? Riden's face was more neutral, but he finally nodded and began to leave. We're standing around, half of us watching them leave and the other half watching the battle on the ground. Lilly isn't really the strongest of girls, but Charlotte is dragging her left leg behind her like dead weight. Lilly grabbed a handful of Charlotte's hair and yanks, _hard. _Before Charlotte has a chance to try to escape, Lilly drives the heel of her hand up into Charlotte's nose. Immediately, she stops moving and drops to the ground, dead. Riden and Monty quickly join her and they take off down the canyon.

As soon as they're gone, we all take a seat on the rock, leaning against the Cornucopia. Within minutes after everyone else has gotten the hell out of dodge, a hovercraft appears to take the bodies. In the action of the fight, none of us heard the cannons fire. I guess we'll have to wait until tonight to see who is good and dead.

"So, how are doing?" I ask, glancing around at the rest of the crew. "Tinny?"

She glares at me for using her nickname, so she can't be in too bad of shape. "It's Satin. Other than the bites and a few bruises, I'm fine."

"Cori hit me in the nose, but I don't think it's broken," Skylar says, paying more attention to her trident than her injuries. Not bad.

"Bumps and bruises," Esther chimes in. "But Lilly isn't bad with hand-to-hand. She doesn't have great technique, but she's really determined. I think she has problems with her peripheral vision, though. When I was circling her, I think she lost me when I was beside her."

I file the weakness away in my head. All of this is going to be useful later, though I'm hoping that the other tributes will do some of my job for me and kill off the weaker ones. It's no fun when they don't put up a fight.

"I'll need someone to take a look at my back, but I don't think it's too deep. Slap a bandage on there and I'll be fine," Aim tells us. Esther immediately heads towards him and takes a look at the cut.

Hadrian is covered from head to toe in blood and gore. "It looks a lot worse than it is. I've got a few cuts from the flying pieces, but nothing too bad. I'm not going to smell too good tomorrow, but I'll be alive."

I move to wear Tinny is crouched, looking through all the packs and weapons that we've got. I can already see her reassessing everything , wondering about the best way to re-divide everything in the most efficient way possible. I can see that we've got plenty of water and food—assuming that we don't waste it like a bunch of dumbasses (which we aren't)—and the weapons store doesn't look bad, either.

"We've got to find somewhere to make camp," I announce. Everyone turns to look at me, but none of them seem surprised.

"What's wrong with staying here?" Skylar asks. "It's tactically pretty sound. There's only a few ways out, but there's only a few ways in, too."

"Which is going to make us more open to potential mutt attacks," Aim says quietly, trying not to wince as Esther patches him up.

"Guys, we've got too much stuff here to move right now, anyway, and the others are probably all still trying to get their acts together. We'll explore our supplies, get the repacked properly and get some sleep here tonight," Tinny says, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Tomorrow we'll move out and find a more ideal camp."

If anyone objects, they don't really say anything about it. We lay out the sleeping bags inside the Cornucopia, which is going to give us some shelter from the weather—thank God, because it's too damn hot out here. I agree to take the first watch with Esther; Aim and Skylar are going to take the second watch; Tinny and Hadrian will take the last watch.

We munch on our food as we settle in for the night and wait for the lights in the sky that are going to tell us about the death toll for the day. The whole time, Tinny sits beside me, always touching me in some way, shape, or form. The Capitol sees her as the good-time girl, but now they're also starting to see just how damn amazingly competent she is. The little touches are comforting after all the action that we saw earlier in the day, and I can't wait to curl up in the sleeping back with her at the end of the day. The touch of normalcy that comes from sleeping with Tinny will be fan-friggin'-tastic.

"Guys, we've got lights!" Hadrian calls, pointing into the sky. The Anthem begins to play, and then the faces start to roll across the sky.

Aliss Tonkin, District 3.

Reardon Kilmore, District 5.

Georgia Wills, District 6.

Shaun Wills, District 6.

Jackson Reign, District 7.

Simon Rhodes, District 9.

Charlotte Perry, District 11.

Robert Delson, District 12.

"We find a new camp and go hunting tomorrow," I announce. Everyone nods in agreement and everyone else goes to turn in except Esther. I can't help it; my eyes follow Tinny when she heads to the sleeping bag that she knows we'll share. I guess Esther noticed, which means that I'm definitely going to have to keep that in check, and she smiles at me.

"Go tuck her in. You know you want to," she tells me quietly.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I head inside the Cornucopia to where Tinny is climbing into the sleeping bag. When she sees me coming, she smiles and wraps her arms around me.

"Did you come to tuck me in?" she whispers.

"Damn straight." I give her a long, lingering kiss that I feel all the way to my toes. God, I want to lay her down on the sleeping bag and have her right there. But not right now. Not now. Damnit. "You've got third watch, so get all the sleep you can, okay?"

"I know how to do this, you know."

I kiss her again. "I know. But humor me." She laugh quietly, and it feels almost like we're at home in my training room again. "After my watch—"

"You better get your ass in this sleeping bag. Now go."

My watch goes by quietly without any action at all, and when I finally slide into the sleeping bag with Tinny, I realize how tightly I've been wound all day. But her warm, lean body feels fantastic against me when she wraps around me, and I'm asleep within minutes.


	20. Day Two: Blistering

**Author's Note: Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed the bloodbath. I was pretty anxious about it, and your encouragement is so wonderful and fantastic. You keep me going, guys! Please continue to be so awesome and review!**

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**Cori Harlow, 16, District 9**

Eight faces come up in the sky the first night. Of those eight, two were supposed to be in our alliance. One of them was my district partner, Simon. It wasn't a pretty death—not that any of them are. The platform blew when the guy from D12 tried to leave, and it blew Simon to pieces. It just doesn't seem right that a guy as big as Simon could be reduced to a few blood splatters on the shirt of the person next to him.

The others don't realize that Simon as supposed to be in our alliance; it was a plan that we had worked out. He was going to try to get to know the other tributes without committing to any alliances so that he could report back to us. Because of me, the others would let him in with minimal questioning. It would have been nice to have a more familiar face with me, but that's not going to happen. So I take my moment and I say my good-bye to the boy from home, while I remind myself that as horrible as it is that he's dead, I can't let my remembrance of the dead interfere with the living.

Cadogan is taking it pretty hard, too. Charlotte, the other member of our alliance that didn't make it out of the bloodbath, was his district partner. What's worse is that she seemed like a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of girl; it's always worse when the happy, positive ones die. Dad used to tell me that it was because everyone thrived off the positive energy, and the let down is that much worse when they die. I'm starting to see how right he was, and I can't really say that I'm glad.

We take shelter the first night on a rocky outcropping that's twenty feet up off the ground, part of the side of the huge canyon. All of us were running on adrenaline and fear for the first day, which kept us from feeling hunger and thirst. Unfortunately, now that it's the morning after, we're all completely famished and looking even worse in the daylight than we did yesterday. Ithica is practically comatose, curled up into a little ball against the wall of the canyon. Cadogan is looking pale and tired, and a ring of dark blue-purple bruises has blossomed around his neck. Asher has a small smile on his face and it's nice to see that the bloodbath hasn't killed his positive outlook on life, because we're all going to need it. Ahlyce's face is fairly blank, but at least she's physically intact.

"How's your face feeling?" Cadogan asks when I sit down next to him.

"Well, I'm not going to win any sponsors off my looks now, that's for sure."

"It's not so bad. Blue is a good color for you; it brings out your eyes."

"Oh ha. How clever. Truthfully, if we don't find some food soon, my face is going to be the least of our problems. How's your neck?" I ask in return.

"It hurts, but like you said, if we can't get some food and water, we're going to be in trouble. Where do you want to head?"

The rest of the crew has stopped what they were doing and were listening to our conversation. Ahlyce is standing guard over the pack that she managed to snag from the Cornucopia, like she thinks we're going to snag it at any moment. I'm not really planning on it; Ahlyce seems a tad unstable, and I don't really want to do anything that's going to trigger her to go psycho slaughterer on us.

"Well, which way do we want to go?" I ask, leaving it open. I'll admit, navigation isn't really my thing, but we don't really have that many options to choose from at this point. We can go to the left—back towards the Cornucopia—or the right, into unknown territory.

Ithica is the one who speaks first. "You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose."

Rhymes. Very helpful.

Everyone else just stares at her for a minute. Ahlyce rolls her eyes, which doesn't really surprise me. Asher smiles at Ithica, who smiles back, even though it's obvious that he has no idea what she's talking about. Bless her heart, Ithica is a nice girl, but I'm thinking that her grip on reality is a little bit…fleeting. We'll go with fleeting.

"The right," Ahlyce says, her voice strong.

"I'm with Ahlyce. Let's go away from the Cornucopia and away from the careers," Asher pipes up. He lacks the confidence that Ahlyce had, but he's agreeing with her, so it doesn't really matter.

"I think they're right," Cadogan agrees. "We've seen what's that way, and it's not water or food. And Asher's got a point. The careers are going to be ready to hunt—"

"And we don't want to be there when that happens. Let's move out." It's amazing how my voice has taken on this authoritative tone. It reminds me of my dad's when he was telling me to go clean my room. And as much as I've vowed not to live in the shadow of my father, if borrowing some of his technique helps me stay alive…I'm pretty okay with that.

"Where there's plants, there's water, so be on the lookout," I remind them. I'm not actually a hundred percent sure that this is right, but someone has to be the confident one around here. Cadogan's from District 11, so I'm hoping that he's going to be able to tell us what's actually edible. If not, I'd say that we're pretty much done. There's no way that we can all live off the food in Ahlyce's pack, because it's barely enough food for one person. And considering that the careers have all the other packs…well, my chances of stealing anything from them are slim to none, especially not with this group following behind me.

We head off down the canyon, away from the cornucopia and the careers. Cadogan walks beside me, warily watching the rim of the canyon that towers over our heads. I can see him occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the rest of the crew is still with us. Ithica is keeping close behind him, occasionally grabbing the bottom of his shirt, like she's afraid that he's going to walk too far out in front of him and be gone forever. Poor kid; she seems like she's a few quail shy of a covey, if you know what I mean. Then again, Cadogan has been keeping an eye on her—well, he's been keeping an eye on everyone, actually—which has kept her from completely falling apart.

Ahlyce is bringing up the rear. Truthfully, she seems to be more equipped for violence than any of the others, though Asher is pretty good with a throwing knife. He saved Cadogan from the District Two boy yesterday, and that's good enough for me. But I like having someone who seems pretty cautious at the back. It means that no one is going to get the drop on us, and if they try it, they'll be met with some strong, bloody violence.

"Knock, knock," Asher whispers quietly.

There's a long silence before Cadogan finally answers, humoring the kid. It's what they both need at the moment; Asher needs the little bit of relief that comes from telling one of his awful jokes, and Cadogan—for whatever reason—seems to feel like he's got to keep us all from falling apart. I'm not sure why he does, but I'm grateful. "Who's there?"

"Boo."

"Boo who?"

"Don't be sad. It's only a joke," Asher says, finishing the joke. It's awful, and it reminds me too much of Jay, who is probably sitting back at home with his family and hoping that I don't get myself killed. Next to me, Cadogan laughs softly at the bad joke. Ithica giggles, slightly hysterically.

The farther we walk, the lower the walls of the canyon get, until finally it levels out into a flat expanse of—you guessed it—more red rock. I'm not sure how far we've walked, but I'm definitely glad that the Capitol didn't go cheap with our boots. If they hadn't been comfortable, I'd have blisters by now and that would be crippling in the long run. That's really the only thing that I feel like I've accomplished, because it doesn't feel like we're any closer to finding water or food.

"Crap," I mumble under my breath, trying not to let the other tributes see how frustrated I am with our lack of progress.

"Cori, we've got to stop. It's almost a million degrees out here, and we haven't had any water," Cadogan tells me. I already know this, but I had been hoping that we could go just a little ways further before we had to stop and break into Ahlyce's two bottles of water.

"Let's go just a little further."

"I'm tired," Ithica says, her voice raspy from a dry throat. The desert dust isn't really helping us.

"Me, too," Asher agrees, though he at least sounds a little bit ashamed. Maybe he sees it as weakness.

"No. We can't stop yet. We're almost there. When we find some water, we can stop and drink to your hearts' content. But we can't stop right now." My voice sounds stronger than I feel.

"Cori—"

"We keep going," I insist. "We don't have enough for more than a few sips, and then we're done. We can't afford to drink all our water before we find some more. We keep going."

Cadogan sighs in discontent, but he doesn't question me. Ithica and Asher look pretty pissed, but I'm hoping that their anger is going to make them want to keep going, if only to prove a point to me. It's a technique that Dad used, but a pretty successful one—

Look at me. I set out to prove that I'm not my father, and here I am always thinking about him. I didn't want to live my life in his shadow, and here I am spending every waking moment—and some of the sleeping ones—comparing myself to him. No more. I try to stop thinking about him because it's distracting me. And inevitably, my thoughts about him lead into thoughts about everyone else at home, and that hurts. It hurts so much I want to cry. Thankfully, my stubbornness has kept me from doing that so far.

"Alright, c'mon guys. We'll just go a little bit further and then we can stop," Cadogan says, taking my side, though he doesn't sound all that excited about it. Ithica sags to the ground and doesn't get up.

"C'mon, Ith, you gotta get up," Asher whispers to her. "Who's going to tell us about funny kid's books stuff if you don't get up?"

He's using a voice that I've heard most people use with five year olds, but it doesn't seem to be working. She just keeps laying there, curled into a ball without moving, staring at Ahlyce's pack. Ahlyce has a tight grip on the straps, like she's afraid that Ithica is going to spring up from the ground at any minute and snatch it from off her back. That seems highly unlikely, but you can't be too safe, I guess.

Cadogan kneels next to her and keeps trying to whisper in her ear, but the only thing that's moving is her mouth. She keeps saying, "I can't. I can't" over and over again. Finally, Cadogan just picks her up and starts to carry her. It doesn't really seem like the wisest of moves, but I don't question it. At least we're all moving again.

We walk on, getting further and further into the flat red desert. Everything starts to blend together into a mass of red and blue until finally, I hear Cadogan call out. Suddenly, Asher and Ahlyce start to run ahead, like they can see something that the rest of us can't. Then I see the same thing that they're seeing: green. Way off in the distance, there is a patch of green sandwhiched between the red rock and the blue sky. Finally.

"Ith, there's plants. You know what that means? That means water. We found it!" Cadogan tells the girl in his arms. There's a flicker of expression in her eyes and a small smile spreads across her face, and suddenly she's trying to get back out of his arms. He puts her down and she scampers ahead like a little girl—but then, she is a little girl—clapping her hands and smiling the widest smile I've ever seen. It's contagious, and I can't help but smile too.

"There's water!" Asher calls.

I can't help it; I start running towards that green patch that means water, and I'm running all out. My heart's pounding and adrenaline is coursing through my veins. We found _water_. There is _water_! God, it's a relief. It our first priority, and we've found it. I can feel the relief spreading through my body. I run into the oasis and collapse into the grass. Asher and Ahlyce are going through her pack, taking all the containers out of her pack.

"There's no iodine," Asher says quietly. "Do you see any iodine?"

"We can boil it instead. When it cools, it'll be clean," Ahlyce answers.

Ithica is stripping off her clothes; her boots and socks are already sitting on the grass beside the pond. She still has blood and gore splattered all over her, and I can't say that I blame her for wanting to get clean. It would be nice to feel clean, and who knows when we'll have a chance to do this again.

"Here, fill these up," Asher tells Ithica as he tosses her a water bottle. She nods and starts to fill the bottle, sighing in happiness as she immerses her hands in the water, scoops some up, and drinks it down. Not a minute later, she snatches her hands out of the water, screaming.

They're blistering. Her hands are red and raw and blistered; the blisters are filling with green pus, and several of them have ruptured already. Her fingernails have peeled away, and her skin has started to flake off of her hands. Ithica keeps screaming and screaming, clawing at her hands like that can make the pain stop. Blood and pus are running down her arms, dripping into the water.

"Ith!" Asher drops what he's doing and runs to Ithica, grabbing her around the wrists to stop her from clawing at her hands any further. She starts to thrash and scream even louder. Her body is practically bent backwards in half; her toes are curled tight, all of her muscles tense as she keeps screaming and screaming and screaming. Cadogan wraps his arms around her and tries to hold her still, but his arms aren't enough. He winds his legs around hers, holding her still as she continues to scream.

Only after a moment do I notice that her tongue and mouth are blistered, too. Her lips have swollen and burst, sending pus and blood flowing freely down her chin. She's spitting out a combination of the two, and the sight nearly makes me throw up. I have a strong stomach, but it was awful. I actually think the smell—the smell of rotten, rancid flesh—was worse than the sight of it.

"Ith, it's okay. I know it hurts, but you have to calm down. It's okay," Cadogan whispers in her ear. Her thrashing starts to fade, her spasms getting weaker and weaker, her screams more and more quiet. It hurts my ears, and not in an annoying, "I wish she would stop" kind of way.

"Ith…'urts," she mumbles, staring at the boys. Cadogan runs his large hands soothingly through her hair. "Math…ith sthop…"

"Ahlyce, what do you have in your pack?" Cadogan asks quietly, his voice tense. She didn't answer. "Ahlyce?"

But Ahlyce isn't moving. She's staring at the scene in front of her with wide eyes and a slack jaw; it's that same face that we'd seen on the chariot rides when the bright lights were flashing in her face. It's that face that she has when she's gone somewhere else so that she doesn't have to deal with what's going on right now. It's a face that says she's not going to be particularly helpful at this point in time.

I grab the pack and start to dig through it, looking for anything that could be remotely helpful. All that I can find is a sleeping bag, a matchbook, two bottles of water, a few strips of jerky and some dried fruit. Nothing at all for Ithica's pain. Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

"We've got nothing," I tell them. Both Asher and Cadogan look panicked, like they aren't sure what to do. Ithica's eyes are still wide with pain, but she isn't talking or screaming anymore. Her muscles are still tight and locked up, which tells me that she's in more pain than she's ever been in before.

"The water burned her," Asher whispered. "Do you think it burned her throat?"

"It burned everything else it touched. I don't see why it wouldn't," I answer quietly. I hate it, but it seems more than likely that she was blisters and blood in her throat, closing off her airways. As if to prove me right, she starts to cough. I expected more blood and pus, but nothing comes out. Instead, her coughs start to turn into gasps and wet gurgles. She's choking.

Cadogan starts to hit her on the back while Asher holds her still, trying to get the fluids out of her lungs. I can already tell that it's going to be too late, but I let them go on anyway. They need to feel like they tried to save her. Who knows, maybe when all is said and done, I'll wish that I had tried to save her, too.

Even after the cannon's deafening boom, they still keep trying to bring her back. Cadogan is hitting her back harder and harder, like he can will her back to life if he just wants it bad enough. Asher eventually stops holding Ithica, realizing that there's nothing else that he can do. It isn't until he hears the whirring of the hovercraft that Cadogan finally stops. He isn't crying, and he's still holding himself together well enough to get up and let them take Ithica, but I wonder how long it's going to last.

Ahlyce is still staring at the water hole, but she seems to be herself again. After several minutes of deafening silence, she points to the pool. The water has turned from a murky brownish green to a beautiful, crystal clear blue. It's only then that I remember the President's words at the Cornucopia. We have to find the keys to surviving. Somehow, in all the hullaballoo, Ithica managed to unlock the key to the watering hole. At least, I think she did.

I pull out several strands of my long dark hair and dip them into the pool. After several moments, nothing has happened. Then I dip my pinky finger into the pool. Still, nothing happens. The water is safe to drink.

"The water's safe, guys," I announce.

Ahlyce is the only one who does anything. She moves to the edge and cautiously puts her toes into the water. When nothing happens, she strips off her shoes and her overshirt and heads into the water. When she can't scrub anymore, she just sits in the shallow edge of the pool and lets the water lap at her feet.

"Do you think it was the blood or the...pus?" Cadogan asks.

"I don't know. Hopefully we won't have to try to figure it out again."

We stay until night falls. Strategically, this is probably the worst place that we could be, but it's dark and there's no moving now. So instead, we set up a watch and try to get some sleep. The problem with that is that the temperature dropped with the sun and now's it too freaking cold to do anything. Ahlyce is the worst because her clothes were still wet; she's tucked inside her sleeping bag, shivering, because she's too stubborn to sleep naked. She'd be warmer, but it's her choice.

"It's colder than a nun's ass out here," she complains.

"Do you have a lot of experience with those? Nun's rears, I mean?" I answer.

She sighs in frustration and rolls over. Eventually, her breathing evens out and she falls asleep. Asher has huddled on his side against some rocks, deep in sleep. Despite the events of the day, he's got a smile on his face. He's still smiling, even in his sleep. Some things really are incredible, I guess.

"You can go to sleep," Cadogan whispers to me, trying not to wake the others. "I'll take first watch."

"No, I'm wired. I couldn't sleep if I wanted to."

"Yeah, me too."

He's staring at the night sky. Just an hour ago, we saw Ithica's face in the sky. She was the only one that died today. I wonder what the other tributes are up to, and whether or not we're being entertaining enough for the Gamemakers. But then I realize how much that whole idea sucks, so I stop thinking about it and try to focus on how pretty the stars are.

"The stars are pretty," I say quietly, just to fill the silence.

"Yeah. That's Orion, right there. The three that are really close together," he answers, pointing to the sky. His voice sounds less sad than it did a moment ago.

"You know stars?"

"I spent some time with them at home. I used to lay out in the fields at night and stare at them. It made me feel like I was part of something, you know? Like I was a piece of some kind of bigger picture, like I had a purpose…"

"You do have a purpose," I blurt before I can think better of it.

"Then what is it?" he asks quietly, and I can tell that it's a question that has weighed on his mind.

"Well, I don't know. It's _your _purpose, not mine."

He takes a deep breath and nods. Something is bothering him, but there are too many places for me to even know where to start. Instead of guessing, I decide to borrow Molly's oh-so-subtle approach of just asking.

"What's wrong?"

"Ithica died today, and while she was dying, I was hitting her. I was _hitting _her. She was choking on blood and…pus, and I told her that everything was going to be okay. And then I started hitting her. How is that okay? I lied to her…"

All the tears that he couldn't cry earlier are streaming down his cheeks now. None of the others are awake to see him lose it, so he can cry. For the sponsors, this might not be a great angle, but the poor guys needs it. He needs to express his grief somehow so that he can wake up tomorrow and keep going.

"You were comforting her," I say, trying to defend his actions. "There wasn't anything you could have done."

"Hitting someone isn't comforting—"

"You were trying to save her life."

"And she died anyway. It didn't matter what I did, because she died anyway," he whispered, still staring at the sky.

I can't stop myself when I reach out and wipe away the tears on his face. It wasn't something that I had planned to do—it just kind of happened—but he does seem to take some comfort in it, so it wasn't a complete waste. He slides his larger hand over mine, holding it to the side of his face as he continues to cry. After several minutes, he asks, "Can I hug you?"

"Yeah," I whisper, knowing as I'm saying it that this isn't something that I should be doing. But then he has his arms around me and it isn't as bad as it should have been. I'm not really sure what to do—dealing with grief isn't what I'm good at—so I do what he did earlier. I run my fingers through his hair and tell him that everything is going to be okay.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay, and everything is going to be alright. You'll see."

I wish I were as confident as I sounded.


	21. Day Three: Plots

**Author's Note: Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I also want to thank DiedLaughing, who submitted Ithica. Thanks for giving me a fantastic character to play with! So, I hope you like this chapter and please review!**

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**Monticlaro "Monty" Cantle, 18, District Ten**

I know that I've made a good alliance; Riden is as smart as a whip, and as much as I hate to admit it, Lilly knows her shit too. After we took the two packs from the Cornucopia, we met up with Lilly and Brie not long after. Lilly looked a little worse for wear, with some nasty bruises and a deep cut on her left arm, but everything seems to be surface level stuff. I don't really know how Brie managed to get into the alliance. She mostly just followed be around in training, and I when I allied with Riden and Lilly, she somehow managed to latch on like leech that wouldn't let go.

After the bloodbath, we turned right and ran away from the Cornucopia. The other group—Cori's group—ran in the other direction. The girl from District Five, Ithica, was in the sky last night, so they obviously didn't manage as well as we have. After grabbing the packs and getting the hell out of dodge, Lilly caught up with us. Brie had somehow managed to run away and hide in one of the crannies in the wall of the canyon. I guess she'd decided to hide there until she thought it was safe to come out. But I guess it doesn't really matter at this point. What matters is that we found somewhere to hole up, and no one seems to know where we are.

We walked forever—or at least it feels like forever—before we finally found a small stream. And where there is water, there are plants and animals. After seeing what went down at the Cornucopia—with the blood and tears—we knew better than to dive straight in. Everything in this place seems to be booby trapped, and I'm not risking anything. Riden had scooped some water out of the stream—dark, murky brown water—and let a drop of blood flow into it. Nothing happened. Lilly cried into the water, and nothing happened. Brie had been sitting beside us, biting her fingernails; before she could stop him, Riden snatched up a tiny sliver of fingernail and dropped it into the water. Immediately, the nail liquefied and dissolved into foul-smelling green pus. After another minute, the pus was gone and the water was clear.

"Fingernails? They're trying to kill us by having us chew off our fingernails?" Lilly had said in disbelief.

"I think it has to be part of the body. Even the smallest part is enough," Riden had explained.

I won't lie; Riden was a good choice of ally. He's smart—even if he is quoting shit that I've never heard of before—and he's a damn good strategist. Between me, him, and Lilly, we've got all we need to survive for a while. Lilly can rip up some snares to catch us some grub. She and I both know how to clean it, and we've figured out the riddle to getting water.

"That's really gross," Brie had whispered.

After that, we'd fallen into a routine. Lilly and I took the first watch—I figured that partnering a guy and a girl would keep the girls from screwing things up too much—and Brie and Riden took the second. His face in the morning told me that Brie had spent the whole watch telling him silly random facts about her life.

The first time she did it was when we were on the train. She'd looked at me and said, "I have a sister, you know. Her name's Dianete and she's fourteen." After that, she'd gotten quite again. The second time it happened was after the chariot rides. "This dress makes me look like a doll. I've never had a doll." I tried to ignore it, but when I couldn't I figured that it was better to just live with it instead of getting annoyed about it. It's not like it was hurting anything, after all. Besides, maybe one of the sponsors will think she's cute and send her a gift. I'm pretty sure she'd share with us. She's…sweet like that.

I just used the word "sweet." I'm still pissing clear, but if I'm using words like "sweet" maybe the heat is getting the best of me.

It's our third morning when Riden decides that it's time to do something about the Careers. He fathers us all around the stream and starts to lay out his plan while the rest of us listen. I'm a hundred percent sure that I could take him in a fight if things came to it, but I'm actually pretty okay with letting him take the lead. That way, if his plan sucks and no one is happy with it, he's the one in trouble, not me.

"Our biggest threat is the Career pack. They've got all the supplies, and they're the biggest alliance group. If we can take out a few of them—or all of them—we'll increase our chances," he explains. He's talking like we're stupid and didn't know this already. I mean, seriously? We know this, buddy.

"That's all well and good, book boy, but you don't exactly walk into their camp and start taking people out. It's a little harder than that," Lilly says, her voice thick with sarcasm. Ah, sarcasm. It does keep life interesting.

He stares at her long and hard. I'll admit, when he's angry, Riden is definitely a little scary. He just stares at you with a completely detached look on his face. I have no idea what he's thinking; he could be thinking about feathers and jelly doughnuts for all I know, though that seems pretty damn unlikely.

"I have a plan. The gamemakers have given us all the supplies we need right here in the arena. First we'll need to find the Careers. Since they can't transport all their supplies everywhere they go—"

"They'' have to leave the supplies with someone to guard them. Their camp will stay in the same place," Brie finished for him, looking really proud of herself.

Riden didn't seem to notice. "Exactly. While they're out hunting, we'll sneak in and booby trap the borders of their camp. When they come back, they'll all be caught in the trap. Career problem solved."

"What kind of booby trap do you have in mind?" Lilly asks.

"I've got a plan," he answers, which really didn't answer the question at all.

"I want to know the plan," Brie says before I can get a word in. "It might be a stupid plan."

He's staring at her in with that blank face, that you're-in-trouble face, and she seems completely unaware of the fact. After a minute, he takes a deep breath and continues. "Given the supplies in our packs and the stuff we can find in the arena, I'm quite certain that we can put together something explosive," he finally says. Brie's eyes widen and she gets real quiet for the first time since the Games started. I'm not kidding. That kid talks in her sleep.

"You're gonna make a bomb?" Brie sounds completely shocked, like she's going to shit a brick at any minute. Riden keeps staring at her like she's stupid. In the few days that I've known her, I've figured out that while she can be annoying if you don't ignore her, she sure as hell isn't stupid. "Like, a _real _bomb?"

"Well fake bombs aren't going to do any damage."

"Don't be an asshole, Riden," Lilly snaps, slipping her hands over Brie's ears so she doesn't hear the curse word.

"I've heard bad words before, Lilly. Monty uses them all the time," Brie says, pushing Lilly's hands away.

I can't help but laugh at her. She's right; I haven't exactly been careful with my language around the little thing. Mostly because I've tried to ignore her. Guess that's not really possible anymore.

"You'll forgive me if I don't think swearing habits are a valuable way to spend our time. Are we going to do this or not?" Riden asks the rest of us.

Lilly is studying him closely. She seems to be on board, but has yet to nod or say anything. Brie looks a little confused; I'm not really sure what there is to be confused about, but she is. I'm sure she'll get things cleared up soon enough. Riden is just staring at me, like my opinion is the only one that matters.

It's funny; even though he's take the reins, Lilly and Brie are waiting for me to answer. They're following my lead on this.

"I'm on board," I finally say.

"If you can actually pull it off, I'm on board, bomb boy. But if I get blown to pieces, I'm going to be all kinds of—" she covered Brie's ears again "—pissed."

"I'm with Lilly. I'm gonna be really mad if I get blown up."

Riden is looked like the cat that got into the cream. I get the feeling that he likes being in charge. I'm not really sure that I like it as a long-term arrangement—he seems like he could be a real tyrant—but for now he's the man with a damn good plan, so I'll stick to it.

"Okay, we need to find their camp. Monty, take Lilly and find their base of operations. Brie, you stay with me and we'll get started on our explosives," Riden orders.

Lilly stares at me for a minute, and then back at Riden. She's tilting her head at a funny angle that makes her neck look like a donkey's but I'm pretty sure that means that she's trying to think. I emphasize the "trying" part. After a second, she looks at Brie and then back a Riden.

"You're using a twelve year old to build a bomb?" she asks skeptically. I bite back a sigh. I mean Jesus Christ, why can't she keep her mouth shut and just do her job? I'm glad she's around because I like having something to eat, but I'm wishing that she would be seen and not heard.

"She has small hands. That's handy for putting things together," Riden explains.

"My hands are the same size. I'll stay instead."

Thankfully, Riden decides that it's not a battle worth fighting. "Fine. Brie, go with Monty."

Brie grins and bounces up, clearly ready to go. We grab several bottles of water and two knives and head out. I take the lead and Brie follows close behind. She's so tiny and light that I can barely hear her behind me. I keep glancing back to make sure that some giant desert bird hasn't swooped down and carried her off.

"I don't think Riden likes me very much," she whispers finally.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. We're all going to end up trying to kill each other at some point, and she's worked up because someone doesn't like her. Dear God.

"I don't think Riden likes anyone but Riden very much," I answer quietly. "Now stay quiet so that no one hears us."

We walk along the upper rim of the canyon, staring down into it. We've walked for almost an hour before we start to hear the sounds of other people. I know that they're other people because they're high-pitched giggles and low-pitched groans. A few steps later, the Career camp comes into view. The pair from District One—who I'm assuming are supposed to be standing guard—are not standing at all. Instead, they're wrapped around each other, completely naked, doing the horizontal mambo.

"What are they—oh." This time Brie covers her own eyes.

"I'd say we found their camp."

"Yeah, um…can we, um, go now? I don't think that…yeah, let's go."

I notice that the other Careers are not there, but I haven't seen any signs of anyone else while we were walking. Brie keeps following closely, like I'm a mother duck and she's a duckling. I never really thought of myself as the mother duck type, and the role feels as uncomfortable as hell. But misery—or at least discomfort—loves company so I do get a sick sense of pleasure at seeing just how awkward Riden looks sitting next to Lilly. He looks like he wants to run away at any minute.

"We found it," I announce.

"And…?"

"The pair from D1 are going at it like rabbits. The others are out hunting, but I think they must have gone in the other direction because we didn't see any signs of anyone else. How are the explosives coming?" I ask.

"They're not. Bomb boy is missing one special plant, which means that we're going to be spending the rest of the day looking for it, even though it might not even grow in the _desert_!" Lilly snaps. Her face is twisted into one of those I-told-you-so smiles that would probably make we want to hit her if it was directed at me. But since it's for Riden and not me, it's actually kinda funny.

She wasn't kidding. She and Riden spend the rest of the day searching for the plant. He gave some long explanation about what chemical was in the plant and how it was actually going to cause an explosion, but I tuned him out. As long as the damn things explode and I'm not around, I really don't care how it happens. When they return empty-handed, Riden starts sulking and Lilly just looks ready to go to sleep.

We settle in for dinner and wait to see if anyone is going to be in the sky tonight. The anthem plays, but no faces come up. I look around at the others nervously, and I can tell by the looks on their faces that all of them are thinking the same thing I am. No one died today, and that means that the gamemakers are going to start getting anxious, and traps are going to start popping up. Great, just great.

Lilly and I settle in for our watch while Brie and Riden doze off. It takes the little girl next to no time to fall asleep, but it takes me forever to figure out that Riden is actually asleep. Even when he's asleep, he still looks tense. Just looking at that guy stresses me out.

"Something's up with Riden," Lilly finally says.

"We're in the Hunger Games. Of course there's something wrong with Riden."

"No, I mean I think that he's planning something that he's not telling us."

"So we keep an eye on him and if he steps out, we'll deal with it then. If we don't let him handle the bombs, that whole plan goes down the tubes," I answer quietly, even though I know that she's right—as much as I hate to admit it—about him.

"Yeah. We just have to stick together and keep an eye out."

The rest of our watch passes without anything particularly interesting. When we wake Riden and Brie to take our places, I fall asleep quickly. Too soon, I'm waking up to screams and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. When I look over, Lilly is bolting from her sleeping bag and headed to wear Brie and Riden are supposed to be standing watch.

Instead of standing watch, Riden has his hands wrapped around Brie's neck. The little kid is kicking and scratching and yelling as she tried to get him off of her. One of her kicks lands—hitting him in the thigh—and he drops her with a cry of pain. Immediately, she grabs her bottle of water and starts running. Riden starts pursuing her, but is slowed down when a knife tears through his clothes and into his shoulder. It hit too high to be fatal, but it slowed him down long enough for Brie to take off. Lilly looks completely satisfied with her throw and is taking off after Brie.

"Go after them!" Riden yells. I quickly take off after them, if only to keep up appearances. It takes no time to catch them, but instead of running faster, Lilly turns and looks me right in the eye.

"Are you really going to help that son of a bitch kill her? She's twelve. _Twelve._" When I don't answer immediately, she keeps going. "She's your district partner. How are you going to be able to go home and face your people if you kill that little girl?"

As I'm looking at that little girl—her big eyes and her messy auburn hair—I realize that as annoying as she might be, I can't kill her. I can't go home and face my people if I kill that little girl. Damnit. Why is it that my conscience shows up at the most inconvenient times?

"Fine. Go. I'll deal with Riden," I answer quietly. As they turn to continue running away, I quickly stop them. "If I tell him that you got away, I'll need him to think that you beat me. You've got to make it look real."

Lilly pulls out another knife and holds it up. It's going to be unpleasant, but it's the only weapon that's going to convince anybody that these two girls could get away from a guy my size. I quickly squat down and let her slice open my face from temple to jaw, like she threw the knife and it grazed my cheek. Blood immediately starts flowing and I "stagger" back to camp.

"I didn't hear a cannon," Riden says. Gee thanks, asshole. No "are you okay?" or "what happened?" No, he's just worried about killing the girls. What a nice guy.

"You wouldn't. Lilly threw a knife and it sliced me open. I can't see a damn thing with blood in my eyes. And maybe if you hadn't tried to kill the little girl, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"She was a liability and you know it!"

"I'm tired and I'm going to sleep. That's what I know."

I return to my sleeping space and quickly go back to sleep. I'm asleep until a cannon fires six hours later and wakes me up.


	22. Day Three and Four: Practice

**Autbor's note: I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out. School caught up with me, and so did the flu that's been going around. Unfortunately, being laid up on the couch is not quite as conducive to writing as it sounds. Anyway, here is another chapter for your enjoyment. However, I feel like I should warn you...it is pretty graphic, so brace yourself. Also, I have put up a poll on my profile so that you can vote for who you want to see in the final eight. Check it out, vote, and stick around!**

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**Acacia "Ace" March, 16, District 7**

I thought that the beginning of the Games would be a little more thrilling. But no, instead of getting my chance at the Cornucopia, that snot-faced kid from D3 had to go and take the coward's way out. Not only did she deprive me of my first kill and my chance to get decent supplies, she also managed to hurt me when she wasn't even trying. I spent my first whole day trying to pry shards of rock and bone out of my body. I had blood in my eyes—mine and the snot-faced girl's—and chunks of flesh all over me. My weak hand is mangled—not beyond use thankfully, but it still hurts like hell.

A few hours after I skulked away from the Cornucopia, I got a gift. It was a tiny pack with a single bottle of water and a few strips of dried beef. There are people out there who think that I'll win—who obviously want me to win. With the way that the crowd reacted during the interviews to all the ridiculous sob stories about friends left behind and families depending on them, I was starting to think that they would be pulling for one of those types. I could be one of those types…except that I don't have a family to go home to anymore.

The thought of it makes my blood begin to boil, and I feel a renewed sense of purpose. I came here to take out D9, to make sure that their families get to hurt the same way that mine did. But when I get the girl from D9—someone stole my chance at the boy, damn them—I'm going to take my time and do it right. She's going to hurt like I did before she goes. I'm going to carve her up and paint the arena with her insides. She's going to be my masterpiece.

But before I can paint a masterpiece, I have to practice. And for me to practice, I have to find someone to practice on.

I've holed up on a ledge that is pretty close to the Careers. If I stand up, I can just barely see their camp off in the distance. But then, most of them don't actually stay in the camp, and every time they do a wide perimeter sweep or a head out to go hunting I can hear them pass underneath me. I've covered my tracks well enough to be safe, so I'm really not all that worried about them finding me. Not to mention the fact that they seem completely incompetent, especially for Careers.

The only chance I've got at taking anyone out is my trap; it's probably my only shot at any kind of defense, too at this point. My left leg is bloody and it hurts each time I move, though it has stopped bleeding and it already starting to heal. I used some of the loose rocks—none of which are very small, I might add—and torn strips of my clothes. When someone walks underneath on the ledge below me, I'll pull the strip of fabric and the rocks fall, trapping my victim on the ledge below. There's the possibility of the rocks crushing them, but I'm hoping that's not what is going to happen because where's the fun in that?

The problem that now remains is the waiting. I wait and wait and wait. Whoever said that patience is a virtue…well, it doesn't feel like one right now. Then, if I had more patience, maybe it would. The longer I have to wait, the more anxious I find myself getting. When tributes don't do anything—and I haven't heard a cannon since yesterday for the girl from D5—the Capitol gets anxious and so do the Gamemakers. When Gamemakers get bored, that's when they send in some nasty creature to tear me limb from limb. If I had an axe or a hatchet, I would say to let them come, but I don't have any weapons and my trap isn't going to keep a horde of bloodthirsty mutts at bay.

The Careers come trouncing through every so often. This time, Hadrian from D4 is leading the way with Aim from D2 bringing up the rear. Skylar and Esther are in the middle; I'm guessing that means that the pair from D1 are "guarding the camp." It's far more likely that they're working on "spearing techniques," if you know what I mean. Hadrian and Esther are talking quietly about dinner plans, which makes me want to jump down from my ledge and strangle them all because I haven't eaten in almost three days and they're chatting about what they're going to have for _dinner. _Really?

"We need to conserve," Esther says quietly. She's soft-spoken for anyone, never mind a career. Skylar just stares at her like she's insane. Aim nods in agreement and Hadrian actually falls silent. Small miracle, I guess.

"Are you kidding? We've got enough food to last for weeks. The Games aren't going to last that long," Skylar answers. Both of them are annoying—Esther because she's too nice and Skylar because she's just…ridiculous in general.

"It's best to be cautious, just in case," Aim pipes up from the back. His voice is quiet but not unsure. He sounds completely confident in himself. After he speaks, the others shut up, so I guess they have confidence in him, too.

After they leave, I keep sitting and waiting. I can feel hopelessness setting in, so I pull out those memories that give me my hate. Laurel, smiling and happy and lighting the candles on my birthday cake. Laurel, tucking me in at night and telling me stories long after Mom had told us to go to bed. Laurel telling me that everything was going to be okay and that she would see me in a few days. Laurel coming home in a pine box, looking nothing like the happy, smiling sister that left me.

Yeah, the hopelessness is gone, replaced with anger again. It's the kind of anger that makes me want to do something other than sit on this damn ledge and wait for something to happen. I consider moving, but then realize that with my…handicaps, I'm going to have to wait for the cover of darkness before I can do anything.

The next time I hear anything, there is noise above me. From the sound of the footsteps, I can tell that it's two people, but that's just about all I can tell. But then they start speaking and help me out.

"What are they—oh." It's a girl's voice. I think it's the little midget girl from D10, but I'm not sure. I can't be without seeing her, but the only way to see her would be to give my position away and I'm not about to do that.

"I'd say we found their camp." That's definitely the boy from D10, and that means that the girl is his district partner. She's been following him around like a lost puppy dog since the whole thing started.

"Yeah, um…can we, um, go now? I don't think that…yeah, let's go." She sounds completely flustered, and I can only guess at what they're seeing. Maybe they've stumbled on some of that District One spearing action.

As the day continues on, I can hear them arguing in the Career camp. Things aren't looking good for them if they're already arguing three days in. I guess it doesn't really matter because the minute I get an axe or a hatchet they're all done for anyway—after I finish the bitch from Nine, that is. Of course, if they decide to start taking each other out, that's fine with me. Nothing like a little bit of bloodshed and chaos in the evening to liven things up a bit.

"We should go back out hunting! The sun is setting and soon we'll have the cover of darkness," Skylar is yelling. Clearly, the girl doesn't understand stealth tactics. Or maybe she does and just doesn't care about anymore. That's the biggest mistake that careers make. They think that they're invincible. They think that they can't possibly be taken out by someone from District 7, who hasn't had a victor in too many years for anyone to be comfortable with. But I'm going to change that. I'm going to win.

I can pick out the low rumble of a guy's voice, but I can't tell what they're saying. From Skylar's yelling response, I'm betting that whoever he was, he didn't agree. She screeches and I can imagine her stomping off in a rage. My suspicions are confirmed when I hear the rest of them calling after her.

"Where are you going?" That would be Hadrian. Asked simply and with obvious shock, like he really is floored about her leaving. Maybe he is, but I think that he probably knows her a little better than that.

"Are you shitting me?" And there's Azure.

"You know, I've never really understood that expression. No, I'm not. If you're not going to do things right, then I will."

"If you walk away, you're not in this alliance anymore. You're fair game, just like the rest of those dogs out there," Azure yells back.

I can't resist standing up and watching the scene unfold. Skylar has a pack on her back and a weapon in her hand—a small throwing axe. I doubt she knows how to use it, but at least she's holding it by the right end. The others are staring after her, not moving. Finally, Esther steps forward to say something, but I can't hear her. Skylar snorts and keeps walking. Hadrian moves to stop her, and she slashes at him with the axe. It catches him across the chest and blood slowly starts to stain his shirt front. Before anyone else can stop her, Skylar takes off into the canyon, headed in my direction.

When I see her coming in my direction, adrenaline shoots through my veins. Here it is: the chance I've been waiting for. My brain is moving too fast for by aching body to keep up, but I manage. I'm going to have to lure her up to the ledge underneath mine before I can spring my trap. To do that, she's got to think that she's going to be able to get the one thing that she's been wanting since the minute she set foot in the arena: a bloody kill.

She's walking towards me, and I can't stop the smile from spreading across my face. Before she can see me, I slip down onto the ledge below me and sprawl across it like I'm hurt, my arm hanging over the edge. When she gets close enough, I moan as loudly as I possibly can, making sure that it sounds like I'm in plenty of pain. A few moments ago, that wouldn't have been hard, but now…the adrenaline is racing through my veins and it's amazing. If I had felt the rush like this before now, I probably would have done this—stalking and killing—more often.

Skylar looks up and sees me, a wide smile spreading across her face. I hear her chuckle and my eyes widen like I hadn't intended for her to see me. Immediately, she starts to scramble up the rocks towards me, throwing axe in hand; I crawl up to my ledge, but I make sure that I do so slowly enough for her to believe that I'm injured and scared.

The minute she's on the ledge below, I pull the cord out of my trap, and the rocks go tumbling down onto the girl from Four. She screams, but then is silent. I'm almost disappointed that she stopped screaming, but one look over the edge tells me that it's because she's unconscious. This gives me the perfect opportunity to get everything set.

By the time Skylar regains consciousness, I have her bound with strips of cloth torn from my overshirt, and there is no way she's escaping. I gagged her too, just for good measure, though it seems a shame not to be able to hear her scream.

"If I take the gag off, are you going to scream? If you do scream, not only will I gag you, but I'll be sure to give you something extra to scream about," I whisper in her ear with a smile on my face.

She nods quickly and I remove the gag. She doesn't scream or beg or even cry, which is to be expected, I guess. Instead, she just stares at me with defiant eyes, like maybe if she stares at me hard enough she'll survive this. It seems she still has a few life lessons to learn. Shame that she won't be able to use them after she learns them, though, because her life will be finished.

"While you were out I went through your pack. I don't really have too much to work with, but I'm betting that if I really tried, I could make this last for a long time. Now, where do I want to start…?"

"I've heard the fingernails are good," she spits at me through clenched teeth.

"I'm not stupid. I'll do a little more damage than that, though I do like the fingernails idea. I was thinking more along the lines of slicing you open and using your intestines as a jump rope. How does that sound?"

"Thrilling," she says sarcastically. She's trying to hide the fear in her eyes, but she can't. It's fantastic, the way that she keeps looking around—left to right, up and down, left to right, up and down—for someone to come save her. It makes her look almost mad with fear, but she's not. I can tell that she's still in there, alive and kicking and _feeling. _

I pick up the axe and my arm feels whole again. Practically speaking, an axe isn't best for what I want to do, but it feels so much better in my hand than a knife does. Without another word to D4, I drag the blade through the tissue on the back of her leg, just above the knee. She screams as my axe slices clean through her hamstring and makes the entire leg useless.

"What did I say about screaming?" I ask quietly as I reach for the gag. Blood has started flowing and is covering the sandy platform, but the look on D4's face makes it completely worth it.

"Is that all you've got? Really? You can't have me, and when I get out of this, I'm going to rip you limb from limb," Skylar threatens. I laugh at her; I probably could have taken her more seriously if she hadn't been bound hand and foot and left nearly completely crippled.

"Oh, I have plenty more." This time, I slip the blade of a knife I found in her pack underneath her fingernail. With a twist of the blade, her nail pops loose and blood begins to flow. This time, she doesn't scream. Instead, she clenches her teeth and stares into the night sky. With each nail, she does the same thing. Slowly, though, her silence is filled with grunts and then moans. The moans finally become full-on screams and I have to put the gag back in.

"I don't see why you're so upset," I tell her plainly. "It's not like fingernails are all that important, anyway." She glares at me again with those angry eyes. This time, though, they're filled with tears. Not exactly the stuff that makes me start shaking in my shoes.

I take my time in finding little ways to tear Skylar Ridged apart. After her fingernails, I do her toenails. The toenails don't really seem to bother her as much as the fingers did; maybe it's because she couldn't see it. After that, I start to show her everything that I do, and I watch as it slowly wears her down.

When I break the fingers on her left hand, she swears at me; when I break the ones on her right hand, she swears even more violently and creatively than before. When I use her as a punching bag—very therapeutic, I must say—she moans in pain, but there is still some life in her eyes. Skylar spit at me after that, spit tinged red with blood, but stayed silent. I'm not sure what she plans to accomplish by staying silent. Maybe she doesn't want to give me the satisfaction of watching her scream, but that's really just a bonus. Watching her bleed is good enough for me.

"What? No harsh words now?" I ask, waving the knife in front of her face. She spits at me again, and I hit her as hard as I can across the face. There are so many possibilities, and so many things that I wanted to try before I tested them on Cori. I'm not really sure where to go from here. My methods are limited by the supplies available to me, but I'm quite capable of coming up with something creative.

Finally, I decide that there is one thing I want to do before I get to my final act. I have to use the knife moreso than the axe, but as long as it works, I'm okay with it. Taking her leg in my hand, I run the blade of the knife down the front of her shin. She chokes back a sharp cry before she can help herself, and I laugh. Before I continue, I slip the gag back into her mouth and make sure that it's secure. With my knife, I make a horizontal cut at each end of the long cut down her shin and begin to slowly separate the skin from the tissue. All of her muscles tense and she's screaming again, but I'm too pleased with my findings to really care.

Gently, I do a few more tests on her—separating the skin from the flesh along one arm, her abdomen, and her backside. Each of them separates just as well as her leg did. It's something I'm definitely going to have to try on Cori. Definitely. By the time I'm finished, she isn't even staring at me anymore. Her eyes are closed and she's unconscious. By the time she regains consciousness, the rest of the careers will be up and looking for new prey, which means that I need to move. Before I go, though, I have one more thing I want to do.

Picking up my axe, I slam it down into her chest, splitting her open. I pry open her chest cavity and inside is her very faintly beating heart. It doesn't take long for me to cut it out. Funny, I thought it would be more…impressive than it is. For something that causes us so much pain, I thought that maybe it would be bigger. But in the end, it is just as easily torn apart as everything else. I guess I should have known that.

Skylar's cannon fires just as the sun is peaking over the horizon. The hovercraft comes for her body and I know that I have to get moving. If any of the careers were looking, they'll see where it landed. I doubt that they'll come running immediately—they'll need breakfast first—but I don't want to linger, just in case. Besides, I have other things I need to do.

Tucking her heart into one of her shoes—too small to be of use to me—I tie it around my waist and start to climb. I feel oddly invigorated, despite the fact that I've been up all night and have had nothing to eat. I have the strength to climb to the top of the canyon wall—fifty feet or so over my ledge—and I begin to walk towards the Career camp. When I get close enough, I can see them sitting around the edge of their camp, eating breakfast. Azure has his arm around Satin; Esther and Aim are sitting together and she's making moon eyes at him; Hadrian is absentmindedly twirling a knife while he eats his toast.

Then I lob the boot with Skylar's heart in it right into the middle of their camp. I don't have to stay to see the reaction. An earsplitting shriek that can only belong to Esther tears through the morning air and reverberates through the canyon. I feel it in my bones, and it is satisfying. It is that satisfaction that tells me what I've been waiting to hear since I got in the arena.

You're ready, it says. You're ready for your masterpiece.

I head off back the way I came in search of Cori and her allies.


	23. Day Four: Bust

**Aim Mannon, 17, District 2**

I hum the song quietly to myself as we sit in our camp, trying to come to a decision about what we should be doing. After losing one of our alliance—can't say that I'm actually regretting the loss, actually—we need a plan of action, especially after the cannon this morning. The biggest problem with early morning and daytime deaths is that you don't get to find out who died until later that night when they show them in the sky. So far, none of the pictures have been surprising, but there's a first time for everything. Skylar's departure and the early cannon are only making things more tense.

There are three possibilities about the cannon. One, it's completely unrelated to Skylar. Satin keeps reminding us about this every few minutes. Two, Skylar found herself a victim and threw us the heart to prove a point. Personally, I'm thinking that's the most likely, but I really hope not. It's not going to make us look very good if she's gone off and killed someone her first night after losing us, and it definitely isn't going to win us any sponsors. The third option is that Skylar found herself a fight, lost, and it's her heart that Azure is holding in his hands.

I shouldn't be surprised that Esther wants us to send out a search party to look for Skylar. For some reason, Esther wants to save everyone—except that this is the Hunger Games and you're supposed to kill the other tributes, not take care of them. But so far, she's taken care of me—the cut on my back—so I'm not really complaining too much. If we have to go look for Skylar, though, I am gonna be a little miffed. We're all planning to kill each other, anyway, so there's really no sense in going to look for her. Thankfully, Azure is making this point very forcefully, loudly reminding us all of this. Hadrian is sitting to the side, oddly quiet, and looking appropriately anxious. I'm not really sure why though, because it's not like they really got along all that well anyway.

"She could be hurt and in pain. She might be vulnerable to attack…" Esther's voice keeps getting louder and louder as she tries to make her case. She keeps looking at me to back her up because we're district partners and that's what we're supposed to do. But disagreeing with Azure could mean a nasty death—or at least a lot of pain—so I keep my mouth shut.

"Whoever it was threw a heart into our camp. Either she's trying to prove a point with it, or she's dead and whoever killed her is trying to prove a point. Either way, we shouldn't be concerned for her well-being! There are other tributes out there, and they aren't going to kill themselves!"

"I don't know. That Aliss girl could have started a trend," Hadrian says with a lopsided smile. He's trying to be funny, but Azure's face only gets redder and his voice gets louder. I just try to keep my face neutral—a small smile on my face that says I find it all a little bit amusing, but isn't wide enough to be truly offensive—and enjoy the show.

Finally, Satin puts a hand on Azure's arm and he falls silent. I know she said that that she was only sleeping with him for the good time, but there's definitely something else going on there. He listens to her without getting pissed that she's interrupting him. They sleep in the same sleeping bag. If it was just sex, they'd creep back to their own sleeping bags afterward. But when they're both asleep, they're always wrapped around each other with her red hair fanned out across his chest. More than once, I've seen him playing with it. Definitely not just sex.

"Esther, I respect that you want to look for Skylar. I really do. But Azure's right. She left the alliance, and if we find her injured and take her in, it's only going to show her that she can do whatever the hell she wants and then be welcomed with open arms. We need to pack up and go hunting. We can start in the direction that Skylar went, and if we find her along the way, we finish her," Satin says calmly. Esther looks disappointed in Satin's decision, but she doesn't disagree. Satin walks to wear she's sitting and takes her hand.

"If she's hurt, we're doing her a service. You know how the Gamemakers like their entertainment. If we find her, you can do the honors. Make it quick for her," Satin tells her, her voice low and comforting. As soon as she mentions that quick, painless death, Esther relaxes. Satin might be a tramp, but she knows exactly how the play my partner. Mention that it won't be an awful death and Esther is all over it, like one of those creepy doctors who decided to kill their terminally ill patients because they're in suffering.

"Someone has to stay to guard the supplies." There's Azure, taking charge again. Can't say that I'm surprised.

There's a long silence as we look around again, because no one wants to stay. Finally Satin volunteers. "I'll stay. When should I expect you back?"

"I don't li—" Azure starts to speak, but then seems to think better of it. From the look he's giving Satin, I can imagine what he was going to say and I'm betting that she wouldn't really like it. "We'll be back to sundown for dinner. Pack up!"

We don't have much to pack. Our first day out, I grabbed a pack and made it my own. Inside is enough water and food to last me a few days, along with my sleeping bag. I keep one of the small handguns that was in the Cornucopia inside, but I'm hoping that I don't have to use it. It's the one weapon that will trounce anything else, which is why they rarely put them in the Cornucopia. It's also the one weapon that most of us don't know how to use because we can't get ahold of them in the districts. Maybe the Gamemakers are hoping for some extra bloody fun this year.

Before we leave, we're all checking the perimeter of the camp and double checking our main supply store. When they think we're not looking, I see Azure give Satin—Tinny, as he likes to call her, which might be more ridiculous than Satin—a quick kiss. Before he pulls away, his hands roam downward and grab her ass. She smacks them, but I can see a grin in her eyes. Yeah, definitely more than sex. One glance at Hadrian tells me that he saw it, too. This can only mean one thing: Azure is about to get a healthy dose of teasing.

We head in the direction that Skylar headed last night, looking for any signs of disturbance or violence. Azure is in front with a spear in his hand, while I'm at the back with my hunting knife. Esther has her throwing knife and Hadrian is sporting a small trident. I almost wish Satin had come along. She found a war hammer in the Cornucopia and I've been waiting to see her use it on someone. I mean, it's a _war hammer _for fuck's sake. Not really my weapon of choice, but it's still pretty awesome.

"So, Azure…I see that you and Tinny are getting along just swimmingly," Hadrian says slyly after a while. That goofy grin is back on his face and he's looking at me to help him out with the teasing. No problem.

"It's Satin," Azure corrects.

"Satin? That's so formal, you know? I mean, Satin isn't one of those names that you can scream from your bedroll while you're going at it," I comment. Azure clenches his jaw and tries to ignore us, but I can tell by his red face that it's just not working.

"But, then, you already knew that. That's why we've been hearing "Oh, Tinny! Yeah! Oh!" in the middle of second watch."

"Really, guys? Do you have to be so crude?" Esther finally pipes up. Her face is almost as red as Azure's, but I'm pretty sure that it's not from being pissed.

"We're guys, so…yeah," Hadrian answers. "There are two things that all guys can talk about forever. That's sex and sports."

"But mostly sports," I clarify.

"Well, then let's talk about sports—What's that?" Esther never finishes her thought. Instead, she stops and stares at something a little ways down the canyon. Up on a ledge, there's a pile of rocks and a piece of fabric, clearly meant to be some kind of trap.

"So, who's going up?" I ask, staring at the others. It's silent for a long time before all of us blurt "I'll go." I'm not really the best climber, but I want to know what's on that ledge, curiosity killing the cat be damned. If the find is good enough, satisfaction will bring me back, I'm sure.

Before any of us can say anything, Esther has taken off and is climbing the side of the canyon. She quickly makes her way onto the ledge and then freezes, her hand coming to cover her mouth. Her face turns nearly grey and for a minute, I think she's about to lose her cookies all over those of us who are standing underneath her. After a minute, she takes a deep breath and releases it before she motions us all to come up.

One by one, we make our way up there. Hadrian and I go before Azure because we need the spotter down below, and then he brings himself up last. As soon as I get onto the ledge, I'm greeted with the sight of blood and viscera all over the place. There's a pile of something that I don't recognize, but it's bloody and I'm sure that it came from a human being. I go over the investigate.

"What is it?" Azure asks, sounding almost…excited.

"Skin. It's skin. You find anything?" I answer.

"I've got hair. Long, dark brown hair," Hadrian says. "You know, Skylar—"

"Has left the building. Let's get moving," Azure orders. There's nothing else to see here, so the order makes sense. It's fairly safe to say that whatever happened up there, Skylar was a part of it, and probably on the bloody, receiving end.

We continue down the canyon until the upper rim starts to slant downward and the canyon levels out. We turn and start to walk the direction that we came, but this time we take the cliffs so that we're looking down on where we were walking moments ago. Silence has fallen over the group again, and it's almost unsettling. Skylar is probably dead; it's weird to think of a Career being dead this early on.

"So, Azure, what's on the entertainment menu for tonight? Do we get rough-and-tumble sex or are we going to get some more of those "Tinny, you're beautiful" moments?" Hadrian asks, trying to lighten the mood. It works.

"Cut it out, guys," Esther says, trying to keep from pissing off Azure any more than he already is. "I think it's sweet."

"It is sweet. Very sweet. Did you see their goodbye before we left? He reminded he to be careful. That's adorable," I hear myself saying.

"Well "be careful" is working, because who's getting some? Oh right, that would be me. And you're—What? You're not getting any? How surprising," Azure snapped, looking off into the distance. My smile widens like I'm laughing with him and not at him.

"That's enough, boys. Can't you talk about sports instead—"

"Shh! There's something over there." Azure cut her off and immediately picked up the pace, zeroing in on a target. I follow his gaze and see what he's looking at. There's a small watering hole about two hundred yards away, and several people. Immediately, our weapons are at the ready and we approached silently. There was very little cover—only a few large and scattered boulders—but we made it within thirty yards without being seen.

There were six of them, which was a far bigger alliance than I thought that we would ever run into outside of our own. It's a girl-heavy alliance, with Cori, Brie, Lilly, and Ahlyce. Asher and Cadogan are there, too, but they mostly seem to be lying around and listening to the girls. Ahlyce is working on something, fiddling with some string and a long, wooden strip. Brie and Lilly are sitting side-by-side, talking and staring at the water like it holds the meaning of life or some shit like that. Cori and Cadogan are bent over the dirt, drawing in it, clearly deep in conversation. Asher looks like he's taking a nap, curled up against a rock.

"Plan of action?" Hadrian asks, knowing that we're not going to get any closer and that we need a plan now.

"Esther could take out one or two with the throwing knives before they really have a chance to move. From here, her best targets are Lilly and Brie. I can hit Cori with my spear. In the chaos, it'll be easy for us to slip in and get our weapons back. We're all skilled enough with hand-to-hand," Azure says. Unfortunately, his plan is pretty good. It's no fun with the dickheads are right.

"I thought Brie and Lilly were allied with Riden and Monty," Esther whispers.

"If they're here, I'm guessing that it's pretty safe to say that the alliance went south," I answer quietly. "But that doesn't really matter right now."

"On my count, Esther you peel to the right and start throwing. I'm left-handed, so I'll take the left. When I see your knife, I'll start throwing. Aim, that pistol would be good for back up." He pauses for a minute to make sure we're ready. "One…two…three!"

Esther and Azure peel off and start throwing. I hear a dull thud that tells me that one of them missed, and a sharp cry that tells me the other one didn't. I know that I'm supposed to come in and start hacking away, but I wait so that I can see how the other group is going to relax. When I was growing up, my dad taught me a strategy in football where the offense will run a play—any passing play—just to see how the defense responds. Then, they would analyze how the defense responded and alter one receiver's running route so that he is open, catches the ball, and scores. This is me, using my football strategy. Watch them scatter, and then we'll adjust.

When I finally peek out, Azure and Cori are sparring pretty heavily. Both of their faces are marked and bloody, but Azure's the one looking worse for wear. He's got a huge scrape across his left cheek that tells me he missed a block. Not to superhuman, after all. Behind Cori, Cadogan is ushering several of the others away from our attack. Only Lilly stays behind to help Cori, but she's quickly waylaid by Hadrian, who's using his trident like a stave. Esther takes off in pursuit of the group, and one of her throwing knives sinks deep into Brie's calf, sending the kid toppling to the ground.

Lilly must have seen Brie go down because she stops trying to beat Hadrian and runs to where Brie is lying. Esther's next knife—aimed a Brie's chest—instead sinks deep into Lilly's thigh. She keeps fighting like nothing happened. Brie is doing her best to drag herself along, but she isn't getting far.

"Cadogan! Get Brie!" Lilly shouts over her shoulder. Immediately, Cadogan stops and runs back to get her. He throws her over his shoulder and takes off, gesturing for Asher to do the same while Lilly and Cori keep us at bay.

"Aim, go with Esther and hunt them down!" Azure calls, struggling to be heard as he spits out a mouthful of blood.

I take two steps before I'm hit in the side of the face—hard. Black spots dance before my eyes and I have to struggle to keep my balance. I try to follow where the rock came from, and I see Ahlyce peeking out from behind the rock where Asher was sleeping. She's hanging onto a slingshot—probably homemade, by the looks of it—for dear life. It must be pretty decent, though, because it packed a wallop. Before she can slip away, I'm moving towards the boulder, trying to pull her off of it. Before she can get out of the way, I grab her by the ankle and pull her down to the ground.

She slams into the ground with a gasp and a thump, her arm hitting first. I swing my knife downward in a arc that would sever her carotid artery, but at the last minute she rolls out of the way and my blade grazes the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her aim a swift kick at the side of my knee. I twist out of the way, which keeps the kick from doing any real damage; instead of crippling me by snapping my knee out of place, it falls painfully but relatively harmlessly on my thigh. As I'm falling to the ground, I get my hands around her leg and pull her down with me. Before she can scramble away, I throw my body on top of hers, pinning her to the ground. One of her arms is trapped between her body and my thighs, but the other still roams free as she tries to buck and wiggle out from underneath me. I grab her by the hair and slam her head into the ground.

"Finish her!" Azure shouts. A quick glance over my shoulder shows him still sparring with Cori. Esther and Hadrian are still tied up with Lilly, but it's only a matter of time for them—

A sharp pain shoots through me as something tears into my eye and one side of my vision goes black. I can feel something dripping down the side of my face—probably blood—and Ahlyce's hands are all over my head. The damn bitch jabbed me in the eye while I was distracted. It's a simple defensive maneuver, and it worked. Now I'm half-blind and she's going to help Cori. Faintly, I hear a cannon fire.

"Cori!" she shouts. For a split-second, Azure is distracted and Cori takes full advantage of it. She uses the ultimate female self-defense move: the ballbuster. She kicks him hard—pretty damn hard—in the balls, and he sinks to his knees in pain. She looks like she's about to finish him until she sees Esther and Hadrian coming towards her, so instead, she takes off after the others.

When he's finally recovered, Azure asks, "How'd we do?"

Since I can't see, Azure's still in pain and Hadrian is being uncharacteristically quiet, Esther answers. "One dead, three injured. Hadrian took care of Lilly."

I look over to where her body is lying, a several holes in the middle from where Hadrian stabbed her with the trident. Her body landed half way in the water, turning it from an ugly mud brown to a sparkling, crystal clear blue. The part that's in the water, though, is burned and blistered with pus oozing from the wounds. The smell is enough to make me want to retch.

"Who was injured?" I ask.

"My first knife caught Asher across the back—a long, thin cut…like yours. Azure tore Cori up pretty good, and one of my knives hit Brie in the calf."

"Ahlyce and I got into a tussle. She hit her head on the ground a couple of times and landed on her arm when she fell off the rocks. It's gonna leave a mark or two."

As I'm speaking, Esther hands me a piece of fabric from her shirt to stop the bleeding from my eye. Without any further examination, I know that the eye is destroyed. She offers another cloth to Azure to hold on the gash that is across his cheek. Head injuries bleed a lot, and we're no exception.

"We should get back to camp. Tinn—Satin can patch us up," Azure says quietly. We all nod, too tired to disagree. We fill up our water bottles from the waterhole and head back to camp.

The walk back takes longer than it should have because we keep having to stop. We're all beat up and more than once Esther has had to hold me up when I lost my balance. She's a bleeding heart, and thank God for it.

Back at camp, Satin has dinner waiting, expecting us to return victorious. When she sees us covered in blood and bruises, she immediately starts a triage. Hadrian and Esther are fine, so they take over the watch for a few minutes while Satin patches us up.

"You're going to lose the eye. It looks like the eyeball is literally torn, and the socket is definitely bruised. I take it you can't see anything?" she asks, looking at my eye after she has gotten rid of the blood and gore that has caked onto my face. Her hands are gentle as she pokes and prods, and I almost understand why Azure wants to spend every night in her sleeping bag.

"Not a damn thing."

"The best we can do is keep it clean and covered so that it doesn't get infected." She rubs some antibiotic ointment on what she can and hands me a clean bandage. I tie it around my head and wonder how ridiculous I look.

As she takes care of Azure, she presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. He shrugs her off and a flash of hurt crosses her face. He sees it, of course, and immediately kisses her back. Frustration from our failed mission is making him cranky as hell, but he's still trying to be nice to her. After all, it would suck for him to get cut off at this stage in the Games.

When the anthem plays, there are two faces in the sky: Skylar Ridged and Lilly Bane. Neither is surprising, but both of them weigh heavily on me—one because she shouldn't be dead yet and the other because she was too damn hard to kill. We're Careers. This isn't how things are supposed to be for us. We're not supposed to be exhausted and frustrated and beaten after just four days in the arena.

Hadrian and I have first watch, so the others retreat to their bedrolls while we settle in for our shift. After what seems like forever—which was probably only half an hour—Hadrian starts talking quietly.

"I feel like I should have gone with her," he says quietly. I just stare at him, but my neutral ever-present smile is gone. "I mean, I wasn't into her or anything—relationships are just too much work, you know—but she was my partner. Maybe if I'd gone with her, she wouldn't be dead."

I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say, "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it if she left," but I don't. Instead, I just continue to watch our surroundings with my one remaining eye. Hadrian cleans his trident and is silent again for a long time before he speaks again.

"No, I'm not going to feel guilty," he says abruptly. "It wasn't my fault. She chose to leave. I'm sorry she's dead, but there's no sense in feeling guilty about it because I didn't kill her. I'm alive, and I'm not sorry for that. I like being alive, and I'm not going to feel guilty about it. Not at all…"

But from the way he's talking, I'm pretty sure he does. I don't, though, and I'm not going to wonder about whether or not that makes me a bad person. Good and bad don't matter here, in the arena. All that matters here is living or dead, and right now, I'm among the living. I'm a survivor, and I won't feel guilty about that.

* * *

**Author's Note: A thank you to IceTigers for giving me Skylar to play with and also to jasperluv1843 for giving me Lilly. I really do love all of these characters and killing them is going to be the hardest thing for me to do. Anyway, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I was anxious about the gore and y'all reassured me. So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review!**

**Also, I'm going to start doing a question at the end of each chapter for y'all to answer, just for fun. They aren't sponsoring questions or anything, just to let me know some stuff about how you're feeling about the story. **

**Question: Which of the surviving characters do you think would make the best villian and why?**


	24. Day Five: Family

**Asher Barkly, 15, District 8**

I'm an optimistic person, I really am. I keep trying to look on the bright side of things and find the silver lining in this storm cloud, but it keeps getting harder and harder. I've been in the arena for five days and already it's getting harder and harder to think positively. But for now I can only think about the fact that we're lucky that we didn't lose more people in the Career attack. Of course, it doesn't really feel that way, but that's what I'm concentrating on right now. That's the only thing that can really block out everything else.

After the attack, we all had to step back and assess our injuries. Cadogan is the only one that made it out of the attack completely unscathed. I can't really tell you came out of it the worst. We had to pull the knife out of Brie's leg while Cadogan held her still and she cried into his shirtfront. If it can't be fixed with a bandage, then Ahlyce is the only one that has any idea what to do. Back home when Lisette and Russell would fall and scrape their knees or poke themselves with sticks, it was my responsibility to clean them up and put a bandage on their cuts and scrapes. But I've never had to deal with anything more than that and wasn't much help when it came to Brie. The best I could do is hold her hand while Cori and Ahlyce did the best they could.

It was only after we got Brie's leg taken care of that we stopped to look at Ahlyce and Cori. Cori's face is still bruised from her fight at the Cornucopia on the first day. Her split lip is new, and so are the bruises blossoming on her chest just below her collarbone. The worst of it, though, is the blood that's starting to matte in her hair from where Azure pushed her into the side of a boulder and she hit her head. She's having trouble standing up straight and it's obvious that everyone is worried about it.

"It's probably a concussion," Ahlyce had said. "Welcome to the damn club."

Aside from the fact that she also seems to have a concussion, Ahylce's arm is looking rough. It's bruised and scraped, but the worst is the bump that's just above her elbow that's telling us all that her arm is probably broken. And bless her soul, she isn't complaining about it. Instead, she's sitting there either in silence or making snarky comments—so basically, she's acting like she always does. Her softer, Asian features are pulled tight in pain, but she's being a trooper.

_"Ouch! That hurts, Asher!" Lisette complained as I washed the scrape on her leg with soapy water. She fell out of a tree in the backyard and we're actually pretty lucky that it wasn't anything more than just a scrape on the back of her leg. It had been bleeding like crazy, but it looked worse than it really was. The worst part was probably that it scared Russell so much that he's been screaming since it happened. _

_"I'm almost finished, okay? The soap is the worst part. It stings for a little bit, but then I'm going to put a bandage on it and you'll be just fine. You're being really tough for me, and that's great. I just need you to keep it up for a little bit longer, okay. Just until I get you cleaned up, okay? Can you do that for me?" I asked her. She's looking cranky with her arms crossed over her chest and eyes that tell me she's more annoyed than scared. _

_"Just hurry up, okay?" she grumbled. _

_"You know, you've got a lot of sass for a ten year old," I told her, putting a bandage on her scraped calf. As soon as it's on, I patted her leg. "Alright. We're all done. I know that hurt, so thanks for being a trooper for me…"_

I shake my head quickly and pull myself out of the memories from home. I don't know how some of the other tributes have handled it—I've heard that thinking of your family will help give you the strength to get home—but this time it mostly just makes me feel sick. My stomach hurts and I bite my cheeks, trying to keep myself from throwing up. Maybe thinking of them later in the competition will be helpful, but right now it's only making me feel sick.

After the Careers high-tailed it out, we moved closer to the water hole again. It probably wasn't the best move—Brie started sobbing again when we mentioned it—but we needed the water and the plants that were growing there. Other alliances might have the luxury of sponsor supplies, but we don't. We've be waiting for sponsor supplies to show up so that we can stitch up Vrie's leg, but nothing is coming. It seems weird to me because I know for a fact that Cori and Ahlyce had a lot of people betting on them. Cori is the daughter of a victor and Ahlyce was talking big in her interview—and so far she's been able to back it all up. Cadogan is pretty quiet, but he's organized and he's nice and so far he's helped Cori take care of us. Brie is adorable—she the kind of girl that is everyone's little sister. She's so tiny that it just makes you want to take care of her. And I'm not so bad. I sliced open a Career—and he returned the favor in their attack—at the Cornucopia. We're not a bad group. So why aren't we getting any sponsor supplies?

It's the morning after, and we're all looking a little better. The sleep has helped take the edge off of things just a smidge, though morale is still dangerously low. I think that maybe if I could just get Brie to laugh, it would light up the whole arena. At this point—even though Brie has only been with us for a day—we've all found our roles. Cori is the leader; Cadogan is the caregiver; Ahlyce is the warrior; I'm the funny guy, and Brie is the heart. She's cute, and there's something about her that makes us want to protect her.

While we're still munching on the nasty, bitter plant parts that have become all of our meals, I decide to live up to my role as the funny guy.

"Knock, knock," I say quietly.

Ahlyce rolls her eyes. Cori is too lost in thought to really answer, and Cadogan is staring at her pretty intently. Only Brie takes the bait. "Who's there?"

"Scott."

"Scott who?" This time Cadogan joins Brie with the response.

"Scott nothing to do with you!"

Yeah, I know it's a bad joke. But that's part of what makes it work. It's funny because it's so bad and we all know that it's bad. If I actually thought that it was good, then it wouldn't be funny anymore. They would be laughing _at _me, not _with _me. But Brie is laughing; it's a brittle laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. It feels good to know that she's smiling. When she starts laughing, I watch all of the others slowly start to do the same. Well, everyone except Ahlyce, who is fiddling with a thick piece of wood that she stripped off of one of the small trees last night. But Ahlyce isn't really a smiler, so this is nothing new.

"We've got to have a plan. We can't afford another attack like we had yesterday," Cori finally says quietly.

"No shit, Sherlock," Ahlyce snaps from where she's sitting by herself.

"Language, please," Cadogan warns quietly with a look at Brie.

"Really? Are you serious? We're in the Hunger Games. The _Hunger Games_. When it comes down to it, we're all going to start killing each other and you're worried about _language!_"

"Guys, that's enough. That's not important right now. We can deal with that later, but right now we've got to figure out what we're going to do strategy-wise. Cadogan and I have been talking—"

Ahlyce snorts in a way that says, "I think you've been doing more than talking." Which they haven't been. Well, not really. After Ithica died, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw them together. He had his arms wrapped around her, tears pouring down his cheeks while she was telling him that things were going to be okay. So, yeah, I guess that's more than talking…but can I really blame them? Besides, they haven't done it since and they're clearly the best leaders of the group. So whether they're together or not, I'm still thinking that they're our best leadership option.

"We've been _talking_," Cori continues. "And we've come up with what we think is going to be our best option. We need to find somewhere that we can take a day or two and rest. We're in rough shape. Ahylce and I are looking at concussions, Brie's leg is in bad shape…we need to gather as much food and water as we can and find somewhere secluded to hole up. If we do that now, during the day, we can travel at night while everyone else is still asleep—"

"That's all well and good, but at some point in time we're going to have to attack. We can't sit around with our fingers up our noses and wait for the rest of the tributes to come and hunt us down," Ahlyce points out. This is a valid point, but I'm not going to lie…I find the "hunker down and rest" plan more appealing at this point.

"That's what we were getting to," Cadogan says. Whenever he speaks, his voice is always how and soothing. I think we could probably be running for our lives and he would still talk like that. My dad used to say that when life gets hard you have to be like a duck: look calm on the surface and paddle like hell (pardon my French) underneath. That's what Cadogan makes me think of. "At this point, it's pretty established that the Careers are moving during the day. So if we want to go after them, we'll have to do it at night. Ahlyce, you're working on a bow, right?"

"Aye, Captain," she answers sarcastically, still fiddling with the stick in her hands. "I should have it finished tonight. But how are we going to see in the dark?"

Cori glances at Cadogan, who nods, giving her permission. "Cadogan can guide us using the stars. We might be able to poison their water supply if we can find the right plants. We'll come up with something. I think the most important part is finding a place to rest."

That seems to be the one thing that we can all agree upon, and as soon as we call the war council to a close, we start doing the best we can to gather water. We fill all of Ahlyce's two bottles while Cadogan picks whatever he can find that's edible. Ahlyce is still working pretty diligently on the bow. Brie is dosing again, but at least she's got a small smile on her face.

When the sun starts to sink down in the sky, we start moving. Cadogan is carrying Brie because her limp is slowing us down too much. Cori is in front and Ahlyce is bringing up the back on high alert. As soon as it's dark we start to move until we find a large rocky outcropping. It's not going to give us a lot of space to spread out, but it's up off the ground and it's safer than where we were. We settle in have a light midnight snack, but after several minutes, the silence starts to bother me.

"Knock, knock," I whisper.

"Who's there?" This time it's Cori who humors me.

"Max."

"Max who?"

"Max no difference to you, just let me in!"

There's some quiet laughter, and after it settles Brie is looking at me thoughtfully. I can tell she wants to ask a question, so I give her a wide smile, letting her know it's okay to ask. She smiles by shyly and finally asks.

"Why do you like knock knock jokes so much?"

The question reminds me so much of home that I want to throw up. I don't want to answer it at all, but Brie worked up her courage to ask, so I figure I have to answer. Besides, you don't make friends by expecting them to do all the talking. You have to give them something before they will give you something in return. So I answer her question.

"When I was six years old I was in my first year of school. My little sister, Lisette, was a year old. The teacher was reading them out of a joke book to us and I thought that my little sister would like them a lot. Of course, Lisette was only one, so she mostly liked anything that wasn't a wet diaper, but it made me feel like a big brother. So that was my thing. I always told her knock knock jokes. And then when my little brother came along, I told them to him, too. It's their favorite type of joke," I answer.

After the words are out of my mouth, I realize that it wasn't that bad. Talking about my family hasn't made me sick; I haven't thrown up, and I feel better. That's what I'm fighting for. I'm fighting to go home to Lisette and Russell and Mom and Dad. I'm going to see them again.

"How about you? What's your family like?" I ask Brie.

"I'm the baby of the family. It's me and Dianete—that's my sister—and Mama. Daddy died when I was little, but…I've got this necklace. Daddy gave it to me before he died, and I always wear it. I always feel like he's with me when I wear it, you know? And I have Azalia and Julie. They've been my best friends since…forever. One time, on my birthday, they woke me up singing "Happy Birthday" outside my bedroom window. It was probably the worst singing I've ever heard, but it awesome." She's quiet for a minute and the brightens up. "We should talk about our families. So that we're reminded about what we're fighting for."

Clearly, not everyone else is thrilled with this plan. When I say "everyone isn't thrilled," I mostly mean Ahlyce. It feels like the longer we're in the arena, the more bitter and closed off she gets. I mean, she hasn't exactly been an open book but it's gotten worse. Instead of forcing someone else to go, Cori starts talking quietly.

"I, uh I've got Molly and Jay back home. They're pretty much the best friends a girl could ask for…I volunteered for my friend Molly. She's…she's one of the best friends that a girl could ask for, and she definitely has a thing for my brother." She stops for a minute and then starts talking to the people at home. "Yeah, I noticed Molly. It's okay, though, because Alston likes you, too. So you two be good to each other, okay?"

She makes a cheesy thumbs up sign, and I know that the Gamemakers are loving this. They love it when people all start talking about families and get all emotional. We're not getting emotional, but we're giving them plenty of heartbreaking footage about the poor, young tributes with families that are waiting for us at home. Maybe this means that they'll leave us alone for awhile.

" Dad always used to tell us about his Games, just in case we wound up in the Games. And, hey, look at that. Here I am. But there's no use in crying over spilled milk, I guess. Alston—that's my brother—and I were sparring the morning of the reapings and Molly just jumped right in there with us. She's such a goofball…So yeah, I've got the best family and friends in the world." The rest of her sentence goes unspoken. _I intend to get back to them_, is what she left off. She wants to go home. But then, we all do.

"I don't…my parents are dead," Cadogan whispered so quietly that I very nearly can't hear him. Immediately, everyone reacts. Cori is saddened, probably because she has great parents and doesn't really like the thought of someone else not having them. Brie is sad, too, but she understands that the way he feels. Ahlyce, though…Ahlyce looks like she's about to have another one of her episodes.

"My parents…died a few years ago, so now it's just us kids. There's Natta and Chara—they're 34. Chara's engaged and Natta was going to move in with her boyfriend. There's Kaitlin who's fifteen and Mariyana…she's seven. And that's just the girls. Shaw is twenty-one and he's completely terrified of trying to take care of our siblings. It's really funny, though. It's not like he doesn't want to…it's just that he's a complete nervous wreck about it. Like, one time he had to change Fion's, my youngest brother, diaper. I thought he was going to puke. He carried Fion around the house dangling him out in front so that he wouldn't be too close to the smell. Finally Raddon took pity on him and did it for him. And Raddon…I volunteered for Raddon, and bless his heart…he blamed himself for me being here. He shouldn't though, you know—"

"Oh, how touching," Ahlyce interrupts, cutting off Cadogan's tale. I think that she was mostly annoyed because Cori had slipped her hand into his, trying to give him some comfort. For whatever reason, Ahlyce seems to have an aversion to their…whatever they have.

"You don't have to be so rude, you know," Brie said, sounding hurt even though she wasn't the one that got interrupted.

"What's the point in talking about our families? They're safe at home and we're not. No matter what we say about them, all but one of us—hell, maybe all of us—are going to end up dead. So what's the point?"

"Because it makes me feel better!" It takes me a minute to realize that those mean-sounding words have come out of my mouth. I don't snap at people; I just don't. Years of taking care of my siblings have helped me develop the patience of Job. I guess being in a gladiator arena and trying to kill people will kill all of that.

"Like you said earlier…this is the Hunger Games. It's not pretty or happy, and we're all tired and exhausted. We've lost friends and allies and it's not fair. So if thinking about home helps make me happy, that's what I'm going to do. If talking about what we're fighting for and why we need to get home gives us the strength to go on, that's what we should do." When I speak this time, my voice is softer and I'm more in control. I'm not snapping at her this time.

"You want to know about my family, huh? Let me tell you about my family, about what the Capitol did to my family. Let me tell you about the seven cousins and one sister who are sitting at home and waiting for me. Let me tell you about how I'm the provider for all nine people that live in my tiny house. Briyana—my oldest cousin—is only seventeen and she's working her fingers to the bone in the textile mills so that we can buy clothes. Let me tell you about how we all work odd jobs so that we can afford to feed ourselves and usually still go to bed hungry. How's that for a fairy tale, huh? How's that for happy memories?"

We all sit in silence, staring at Ahlyce. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she speaks, but I don't think she's noticed that she's crying. I'm not going to tell her that she is, because she'd probably bite my head off. It doesn't keep me from feeling bad for her, though. It's hard to be the one taking care of a family, and she's helping to do it. But then, so is Cadogan and he's not a cranky jer—person.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"You didn't kill our parents, so I don't know why you would be sorry. If the Capitol would actually take care of its citizens, this wouldn't happen. My parents and aunt and uncle were in the kitchen, but there was a gas leak. They aren't all that uncommon in our district but they never get fixed unless we do it ourselves. When they lit the stove…"

She freezes for a moment, like she's realizing that she just spilled her guts to all of us, and then all traces of vulnerability are gone. Instead, she just looks like she angry again. Her jaw is clenched tight and her hands are clenched in a white-knuckled grip around the bow that she's trying to make. When she speaks again, her voice is contained and overwhelmingly bitter.

"I'm going to get back to my family because they deserve to live, and without me, they'll die."

Then I see a spark of anger in Cori's face. So far, I've only seen her look angry when she's in battle mode, but now I can tell that she's beyond that. Ahlyce has essentially just told us that she deserves to survive more than we do. Yeah, I can see how that would set her off.

"Are you really telling me that you think you _deserve _to live more than we do? We all have families that are counting on us—"

"You're the daughter of a victor. No one is counting on you," Ahlyce growled back.

"Not true. You've seen what loss can do for a family. What do you think is going to happen to our families if we don't come back? Losing one of us could tear our families apart, and that's true whether you're rich or poor. Emotionally, they might never recover from it, which might worse than starving to death. So don't tell me that you _deserve _to live more than we do. All of us deserve to go home," she says. Her voice is quiet but powerful. It's velvet soft and completely deadly.

Ahlyce stares at Cori long and hard, and for a minute I think that they're going to come to blows. But then Ahlyce stands down and goes back to fiddling one-handed with her bow. Cori sits back down and sighs, which just shows all of us how very exhausted our fearless leader really is. The sun is rising in the sky and it's time for us to start winding down.

"Cadogan and I will take first watch. Ahlyce and Asher take second. Brie and I'll take the third watch," Cori announces, and all traces of a tired leader are gone. I can see Cadogan wanting to protest, but he doesn't in front of us. I wonder if he'll take it up with her after we go to sleep.

Ahlyce slinks off to the edge of the ledge and curls up to go to sleep. Brie lays with her back against the side of the canyon wall, away from the edge. I settle in a few feet away from Cadogan and Cori and quickly close my eyes. I don't fall asleep immediately; if there's something wrong that they're not telling us, I want to know.

"You can't take two watches, Cori. You're exhausted as it is, and you're going to run yourself into the ground. When you're tired, you're sloppy. You know that," Cadogan tells her, his voice full of concern.

"There's no one else, and you know it. After Ahlyce's little speech, we can't let her take a watch with Brie. Asher could keep her in check if he has to, but Brie can't. If she gets too dangerous…"

"We'll have to take her out," Cadogan finished for her. Someone sighs in disbelief and frustration. I crack my eyes open and see Cori holding her head in her hands. Cadogan has an arm draped casually over her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"We're six days in and I'm already plotting to kill an ally. Doesn't really feel good," Cori says.

"You're trying to keep the alliance together for as long as possible. If Ahlyce kills us all, we're not going to have an alliance anymore. We'll all be in pieces. It's for the greater good."

"Well I'm tired of thinking about the greater good. Maybe that makes me selfish, but…I want something that's mine, you know? At first I wanted to not stand in my dad's shadow anymore, but now I just want something that's mine. Completely and totally mine. Is that selfish?"

"If it is selfish, I guess that makes me selfish, too. Peas in a pod," he answers. "Everyone wants something that's theirs. It's just a matter of finding it."

Then their conversation starts to get more philosophical and I fall into sleep, trying not to think about how I should be at home with Delany, with my arm draped around her like Cadogan is doing with Cori.

When I wake up for my watch, Ahlyce is still alive. She's still alive the next day, and the next, and the day after that. I know that I should probably warn her, but Cori is right. She could be a danger to us all, and I want to get home. So instead, I stick with Brie and concentrate on trying to make her smile. When it works, her smile is super bright and she reminds of Lisette and I feel like a victor already. Then I remember that to get home, little Brie has to die and it makes me sad. Being in the arena is changing me.

I am a good person; I know that I am. But I've been in the arena for nine days, and I'm starting to think about things in a completely different way, and I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to go back. When I was at home, and even when we were in training, everyone was a friend that I hadn't met yet. But now I look at everyone, and all I see is a threat. I look at Ahlyce and know that she would kill me to get home. Cori would kill Ahlyce to save us, and Cadogan would cover for her. Brie, despite her small size, can be pretty tricky, too.

I don't have anymore friends in the making. Now they're all threats, and I'm starting to hate myself for thinking that way. It makes me sad in a way that no knock-knock joke—no matter how bad—can fix.

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**Author's Note: I know, I'm a terrible person for keeping you waiting. I really am sorry. School got busy and then work got busy and then my quick little trip to the hospital because of pneumonia got busy, so there hasn't been a whole lot of writing time. Anyway, I know that there wasn't really a whole lot of action in this chapter, but I wanted to give you a little bit more about the tributes' personalities and the dynamics of this alliance. Please let me know what you think, and I promise I will try to update sooner.**

**Question: Of the remaining tributes, who is your favorite and why? Also, who is your least favorite and why? **


	25. Day Nine: Bad Bromance

**Author's Note: So, I really am sorry for the delay. I might have made a big boo-boo and dropped my computer to it's death, and I've been without one for two months now. I've also graduated from college and have to think about getting a real job...scary thought. Anyway, I am really really sorry for the delay and I will try not to kill anymore computers and I'll update as frequently as possible.**

* * *

**Riden Snowe, 17, District Three**

Without Lilly, this bomb project is taking far longer than I had initially anticipated. I'm realizing now that trying to kill the little one—Brie—was a big mistake. Her hands were tiny, and would have been perfect for this project. She could put the small pieces together in a heartbeat while it takes me forever. And I can't count on Monty to do it properly because his fingers are clumsy—not to mention fat. He's more of one for brute force—he's certainly built for it—but subtlety and fine motor skills are not his forte.

It didn't take me long to find the plants we needed; after that, it was just a matter of finding a proper delivery system. Metal scraps, containers, and pressure switches would have been ideal, but in the middle of a desert, it's not likely. If things were ideal, I would be able to rig up a landmine of bomb with a pressure switch that causes an explosion when the person steps on it. Given that things are less than ideal, I'm looking at trying to find something to keep the two plants separate until I want to actually cause the explosion. I try to explain this to Monty, but he keeps staring off into space and is clearly not all that interested in learning.

In the beginning, I thought that he would make a fine ally, but I'm beginning to question my that decision. His initial detachment from his district partner made him ideal candidate, not to mention the fact that he's huge. Physically, he is far beyond me; mentally, I know I have him beat. I'm the man with a plan, to borrow the common phrase, and he has no idea how to enact it. He's the muscle, and I'm the brains.

But now he seems to have grown a conscience, which is highly inconvenient. If I win—because while I do think that my chances are quite high, I am far too practical to assume that I absolutely will—then maybe I can stop to explore the moral ramifications of everything I had to do. But now, in the arena, there's no sense in feeling bad about what we've had to do; not when there are still things to be done. I think Monty's conscience is getting the better of him, because I'm sure that if he'd tried, he would have caught Brie and Lily.

I'll deal with that when I have to, and if I play my cards right, I may be able to take care of it when I take care of the Careers. It would be perfect if they would take him out so that I can honestly say that I didn't kill him. Squeaky clean get away, indeed. Of course, if I can't get these bombs finished, I have to find a new plan, and that is the very last thing I want to do.

Monty has thankfully done an exceptionally good job keeping us stocked with food. It's mostly been small stuff—a desert hare and a few edible bugs. Hopefully, I won't have to eat anymore bugs, because their legs keep getting stuck in my teeth. I keep waiting for sponsor supplies, but so far I haven't gotten anything. Perhaps it's because we haven't had as hard a time as I've anticipated. Maybe our mentors are saving our supplies fore when we're in dire conditions. It's a situation I'm hoping to never find myself in, though I do understand the reasoning behind the decision.

"So, how much longer do you think that's going to take?" Monty asks as he tosses a rock in the air and catches it.

"We need enough to set up a perimeter so that when they set off the first one and the rest scatter, they can't escape. That could take a while."

Monty looks deep in thought for a moment—a new expression for him—and begins to drag his fingers across the sand, sketching something. I try to finish what I'm doing before I take a break to look at what he's doing, but it's hard. I've been working on these damn things for days, and I'm ready to get this show on the road. His huge, clumsy hands are scribbling a series of Xs and Os that seem to have some meaning, though I'm not sure what it is.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He grins, a wild-looking grin and I realize that he's formulating a plan. An actual plan. I can't wait to see what a disaster it is going to be.

"This is the layout of their camp, from what I was able to see. Where they're set up, they'll have a perimeter established and an alarm system in place. Instead of putting all the explosives all the way around the outside, we put them in key locations. Someone sets off the first one, and then we force the others to go where we want them to go."

"And how are you suggesting that we do that? It's easier said than done, you know," I snap. I try to keep a level head, and usually my control is perfect, but even I have to admit that this is taking a bit of a toll on me.

"If we position ourselves right, we can make it seem safer or easier to go in a certain direction. They go that way and walk straight into our trap. Instead of making enough to go around the entire perimeter, you could just make a few that we would throw. It would save you some time," he explains. He's talking to me like I won't understand him, and it's obnoxious.

"That's easy for you to say; you don't have to build them."

"If you would tell me how, I would help you. But instead, you're being Mr. Top Secret over there."

"Your hands are too big and too clumsy," I answer plainly.

"Well, we could still use my plan. I'm from Ten, and we know a thing or two about herding."

"You heard cattle. Cattle have a mob mentality, and they don't actually think. Not intelligently."

He sighs in frustration upon hearing my words, and I swear I can hear him telling himself to stay calm. When he speaks, he sounds so condescending; my face doesn't reflect my anger, though, and I take pride in this.

"When people panic, they might as well be cows. One career is already dead. Another attack would put them over the edge."

Monty has a point, as much as I hate to admit it. It would work faster, and it would keep me from having to make so many bombs. And, if Monty happens to be killed while herding the Careers…well, so be it.

I nod in agreement, and he smiles. "So, how are we going to herd him?"

Using a series of Xs and Os, he explains the layout of their camp. As he speaks and gives me directions, I realize that the most difficult part of this plan is going to be ensuring that the supplies sustain a minimal amount of damage in the explosions that will be going on around them. This is going to be especially difficult if they try to take their packs with them when they flee. We won't be able to salvage everything, but it would be good to have the luxury of supplies when the other tributes are more than likely going without.

"The only problem with this plan—" I start.

"Other than the whole five-on-two thing?" Monty interrupts.

"—is going to be the throwing grenades. So far, I've been able to use sticks and plastic to make the mines, but that's not going to explode when we thrown them. It's too durable. We need something more fragile."

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, a silver parachute drops from the sky. Attached to it is a basket. We both stare at it for a moment, waiting for something to go wrong. Sponsor gifts have never been booby trapped before, but there's a first time for everything. After several minutes, Monty moves towards the basket.

"Wait!" I call. "Let's go through the whole drill first. Just in case."

Monty quickly bit his pinky fingernail to the quick and dropped a single drop of blood on both the basket and the parachute. I quickly did the same thing with spit and sweat. After running through the whole process, we finally deemed the basket to be safe.

"Who is it for?" he asks, nodding towards the parachute.

I take the silk material into my hands and study it; it feel so soft against my dry, rough skin. It reminds me too much of the luxuries that I left behind the in Capitol, and of how rough this arena really is. It reminds me of what I can return to if I win. If I win this, I could have this in my home back in District Three; I would come to the Capitol each year for the Games. I would be honored, and I would be _alive. _

"It's for me," I say as I notice my district logo printed on the soft silk of the parachute. Inside the basket, there are ten small glass globes. No, it's not edible, but it's almost better than food. These are the tools that I need to put Monty's plan into action. They're perfect. Each globe is divided in half with a very fragile piece of glass; there is a hole in each side of the globe so that I can put one ingredient in each side. Then, when we throw them, the middle piece will break, the chemicals will mix, and there will be an explosion. It's perfect, and I say so to Monty.

"This will make the process faster, I'm assuming?" he says, and his voice is actually playful. The tone isn't necessarily appropriate, considering that we are planning to kill at least five people, but I can't help but feel the same way. Our lives just got a lot easier, and I can't help but feel good about that.

It takes less than fifteen minutes to finish filling the rest of the bulbs, which is convenient considering that the sun is starting to set. We wrap the glass balls in the fabric of Monty's over shirt; this will keep them from clinking together in the basket and breaking. There is enough padding on the inside to keep any outside forces from breaking the bulbs—barring any major trauma to the basket. With the knowledge that everything is taken care of, I can finally sit down to eat.

My meal for the evening is a small deer of some sort. I'm not a trapper, and neither is Monty, but rigging up a snare is really not all that difficult. It works the same way that gears and cogs and machinery works; it's all about weights and counterweights and finding the right balance to achieve what you want. It's variables, and I am a master with variables. And Monty, being from District Ten, has a wide and varied knowledge of all the ways to slaughter animals. I trap them, he kills them, and we're a happy team.

"There's deer in the desert?" I ask. District Three is pretty urban—all factories, clouds, and grey skies. The only animals that I ever saw were stray cats and the rats that were always invading my cabinets or trying to sleep inside in the winter.

"I guess so. Where I live in Ten isn't a desert. It's mostly grassland so that the cattle have plenty of room to graze. But frankly, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. We got a deer, and I'm going to eat the deer."

He wasn't joking; he tears into the deer meat with more zeal than he's had for any other meal since we came into the arena. Intellectually, I know that the food doesn't actually taste any better for having finished making our explosives, but it doesn't stop me from thinking so. This deer meet might be the best thing I've ever tasted.

Since I took the first watch last night, it's Monty's turn to take it today. But now that I'm sitting down and trying to actually sleep, I find that I can't. My mind is still moving a million miles per minute. The adrenaline high from having finished the explosives hasn't ended yet. I know that when it does, I'll fall asleep and stay that way for a long time. For now, though, I keep staring into the dark sky, studying the stars and watching Monty on watch.

He keeps fiddling with something on his finger and staring into the sky, that thoughtful look back on his face. Despite his hulking size, he looks very small settled on top of a boulder. I think it's the location; against the vast expanse of deep blue sky and hundreds of sparkling stars, everything seems smaller. Before today, I had only seen stars in my textbooks at school, and that was many years ago. There's too much smog and light pollution in District Three to see the sky.

"You enjoying the view?" Monty teases when he notices me staring.

"I can hardly see anything in the dark like this. Your fidgeting, but you always fidget."

He laughs; since the arrival of our gift, he has seemed much more at ease. Perhaps he believes that we've bonded in our mutual plan to kill the Careers. I don't think he has realized that by showing off his intellectual skills, he has made himself even more of a threat in my mind. He has more mental abilities than I had originally given him credit for, but I have learned my lesson.

"I didn't used to fidget, you know," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I didn't used to fidget. I used to be completely comfortable sitting still—kinda like you. I could sit and supervise my team and joke around with them, but when all was said and done, I went home and crashed. I could sit still in the corner and watch the rest of the family. It was great," he tells me with a grin.

I don't need light to know that he looks wistful; his voice says it all. I've never really understood the point of regretting things, but he doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Again, it's that conscience of his that seems to be causing it, and it's getting to be a real pain in my neck, though that conscience clearly doesn't apply to Careers.

"So why do you fidget?"

He takes a deep breath—the kind that usually means that he's gearing up to talk for a while. I wish that I could just let him babble on and go to sleep, but every word that he says is something that I need to know. The more you know, the easier it is to find weaknesses. Someone—I don't know who it was—said that you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer. In the arena, everyone is an enemy. You either kill everyone else, or allow yourself to be killed. Allowing someone to be a friend would make them a greater enemy.

"There was this…girl. Isn't that how all stories start? Anyway, her dad owned the slaughterhouse where we would take the cattle to be killed. She would do some work in there, and she was gorgeous. I mean, on a hot scale from one to ten, she was a twenty. She had this long, pretty red hair and big green eyes. Anyway, we were seeing each other, and I found out that she had been seeing other guys behind my back. It turns out that she had her eye on this other guy, and she was using me to make him jealous. I brought her to my house, to eat with my mother and my family, and she was just using me. I mean, who the hell does that? How do you use people that way?" he asks no one in particular.

If I were going to feel guilty about my plotting, now would be the time. Instead, I force myself to push all of that behind me. So what? He had a bad break-up. Statistically speaking, if we live long enough, the majority of people will have a bad break-up. I reach for the small locket-whistle that Evie gave me before I left; I wonder how things would be if I return successful. Would we eventually have a bad break-up? I imagine so; the things that I'll have to do to survive would be off-putting for her. But until I return and that happens—though we would have to actually be officially together to break up—I'll pretend that things at home are perfect.

"And how did this lead to you twitching?" I ask, trying to keep him from realizing that I'm doing some deep thinking over here.

"When I was with her, I didn't want to do anything but be with her. Okay, well, there were _other _things that I wanted to do with her, but…that's beside the point. We fooled around, but I would have been happy even if we didn't. I was happy just to sit there and be still with her. And then…after I found her doing the same thing we another guy, I couldn't stand to just sit still. So now I fidget," he answers, fiddling with the ring on his finger even as he speaks.

"That's…unfortunate. That's why you didn't take to Brie very kindly. She looked too much like your former girlfriend."

"Yeah, no shit. How about you? You got a girl?"

Again, I can't help but think of Evie. I remember how she looked standing over my bed when she woke me up on the morning of the Reapings, wearing her clean white dress with her hair done perfectly. I remember her red face after she kissed me in the Justice Building before I left. The locket-whistle hangs around my neck, and I press it against my chest, as if I can keep Evie close to my heart that way. Do I have a girl? Perhaps. Am I going to tell him that? No way.

"No, I don't really hang out with girls very much. They are not attracted to guys that only have two sets of clothes."

Except Evie, who has always been there when I needed her. Evie, who wouldn't stop coming to see me, even when I told her that she shouldn't. Evie, who insists that I come to breakfast because she knows that I have no family of my own to have breakfast with. Evie, who wouldn't be scared of a boy with only two sets of clothes.

"You're better off that way," he consoles me. "They just break your heart in the long run. Nothing good ever comes from falling in love."

"I concur. Do you know the story of the 74th Games?" I ask.

"What's concur mean?"

"Agree."

"Oh. Yeah, I remember. Poor bastard fell in love with the girl. My mom said that she remembered thinking that it was just a ploy to get the sponsor points, but he really did fall for her. That's what she was telling me, anyway. And look where that got them." I can hear the bitterness in his voice.

Everyone knows the story of the 74th Games. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve, and somehow, they survived to the final two. She shot the last Career tribute with a bow, leaving the two of them alone. The Gamemakers had told them that the two of them would be able to live since they were from the same district, but a last minute revision of the rules wouldn't allow it. They tried to make a heroic last stand with poisonous berries, threatening to kill themselves if the Gamemakers wouldn't let them both win. But Katniss got lucky and Peeta died first. Then the Gamemakers swooped in a revived the girl.

She killed herself two days after finishing her victory tour.

"Well, we're lucky that we're done with the girl thing. Speaking of romance, we have a good chance of setting the bombs while the District One kids are on watch. They spend too much time screwing around to pay that much attention," Monty informs me.

"Really? Is it a ploy or do you think it's real?"

"Haven't seen enough to say, really. God help them if it is, though."

He's right enough, though I imagine that it really won't matter if God tries to help them or not. Not with what we've got planned.

* * *

**Author's Question: So, it's obvious how Monty feels about romance. How do you feel about it? Do you have any favorite couples from this story, and what would you like to see come out of it?**


	26. Day Ten: Fractured

The arena has been oddly quiet for the past several days, and that's never a good sign. Seriously. Silence means that someone is getting bored—usually the Gamemakers—and when they get bored, bad things happen. Of course, it is the Hunger Games, which means that bad shit is going to happen anyway, but Gamemaker bad shit is worse than just the plain old regular bad shit. I figure the only reason we haven't had some sort of natural disaster or mutt attack is because the D1s are keeping everyone entertained with their bedroll aerobics. Seriously, Satin is _flexible. _

After our first busted attack, we came back to camp to lick our wounds—metaphorically speaking; there wasn't any actual licking that I know of. We've been here, doing nothing but hoping that our bumps, bruises, and gouged eyeballs aren't going to get infected. So far, Satin has done a good job of keeping us clean and uninfected, and Esther is catching on pretty quick. Yeah, I know, it seems sexist with the women taking care of the men, but we were all far worse for wear than they are.

We've been sitting here for five days now, and I just wish that we would get up and _do _something. The more we sit here, the more time I have to think, and that's the last thing that I want to do. When I think, I can keep Skylar out of my head; I didn't know the girl—not well—but she was from home, she was familiar, and now she's gone. She gone in a mass of blood and brown hair and a pile of skin. I knew that it would have to happen if I'm going to live, but I didn't expect it to be so soon. Everything is happening too fast, and yet too slow at the same time.

When I have time to stop and think—which is all the damn time now—I realize that we're vulnerable. Coming into this, I felt powerful. I might have been dressed like a shipwrecked survivor at the chariot rides, but I felt like a god. I was Poseidon, god of the sea, and I was going to rule the arena. Yeah, that was probably the lingering after affects of my last joint, but it was good. Now, I just feel small. Skylar is gone, Aim only has one eye, Azure's face is sliced open, and I've got my fair share of bumps and bruises. Esther's got some, too, I'm sure, but she doesn't complain. We're all a little bit broken and it's not supposed to be that way. Sitting around just gives me more time to stop and think about it all.

"I'm going stir crazy," I finally tell Satin. "We need to get up and _do _something."

She's taking count of our supplies for what is probably the tenth time this afternoon. I think that's what she does when she gets nervous; well, that and spending time horizontal with Azure in their bedroll. I'm not really one for relationships because they take too damn much energy, quite frankly, but at this point it would be nice to have something to help blow off some extra steam. Since sex doesn't seem to be an option, I'm opting for violence.

"Well, if you want to do something, you can help me straighten up around here. Azure called another meeting for lunchtime," she answers, not at all concerned about the fact that I can't seem to stop tapping my thumbs on the nearest surface available.

"To talk about what exactly?" My tone is sharper than it probably should be. She's only stating a fact, but for whatever reason, it's grating on my nerves. Everything is grating on my nerves, and it's making me jittery. Can't really say that I appreciate that development.

"Our last venture out didn't go well. We need a plan before we go out again, and we need to discuss our defenses. Esther and I have been taking double shifts at watch for the past few days, but it's not safe to do so anymore. We've got to come up with a new strategy for taking watches."

She's right, and I know this. I can see the wear and tear on her face; she has dark circles under her eyes, and despite the sun, she seems paler than she did when all this started. Her freckles stand out more against the paleness of her skin. Esther is looking much the same way; dark, tired circles are under her eyes. She has lost some weight, and her cheekbones seem more prominent than they should be. Yes, they are being worn thin, too.

"So why don't we just do it now?"

"This gives you a chance to think up some kind of plan and present it to the group. And it gives you some warning so that we don't all come barging in yelling at each other like we did last time. Hopefully, that will make this mission go a little bit better."

"I'll be ready."

Truth is, I probably won't be ready. Not with a big, sprawling tactical plan like Azure is looking for. Even if I was a tactical guy, I'm too exhausted at this point to think about all of it. It's just too easy to let someone else do it.

Satin is walking around camp, telling everyone about the meeting. I don't know how she manages it, but she somehow gives orders and no one really cares that's bossing us all around. Maybe it's because Azure is such an asshole about it that when Satin finally asks me to do the exact same thing but in a polite way, I'm totally willing just because she isn't threatening to beat my face in. As much as I dislike Azure, I have to admit that the two of them make quite the team.

"So, are you going to be ready for this meeting?" Esther asks, coming to sit beside me. The more I talk to her, the more she seems like she shouldn't be here. Everyone here has some kind of ulterior motive for their actions: Azure does everything to keep control, Satin is helping him, and Aim is sitting back and waiting for one of us to screw up. But Esther…she seems like a genuinely nice person, like she actually wants good things for us. I don't know what make of her or what to do with her.

"If the meeting leads to us getting out there and getting this done, then yes, I am beyond ready for this meeting. We've been sitting around on our asses and I'm ready to get this over and done with. I'm ready to go home."

"Me, too." That's all she says, but there's something in her voice that tells me that she is realizing the same thing I am: we can't both go home. At some point one of us is going to kick the bucket. She knows this, and somehow, she's still sitting here as cool as a cucumber. She doesn't seem to be worried about anything.

"How are you staying so calm?" I blurt before I can stop myself.

She takes a deep breath before she answers. "It's seems to silly, you know, thinking about it right now, in this situation, but I can't help but think that there's a reason for all of this—"

"A reason for all of us to be sitting around waiting to die?"

She gives me a scathing look for my sarcasm before continuing. "There are times when I don't understand the world at all, you know? But then, there are other times when I see how beautiful nature is, and I realize that I have been blessed with a great family, and I know that the world is good. There's a lot of bad in the world, but there's also a lot of good, and I've seen too much beauty to believe that it all happened by accident, you know? There's got to be something bigger out there that has given us all of this. When I see beautiful things—like a kid helping an old lady across the street or the flowers that grow up through the cracks in the sidewalk—I can't help but feel like I'm part of something bigger. Someone is watching me and has a plan for me…and it's good."

I can't help but stare at her for a long time, because everything that has come out of her mouth seems crazy. And yet, at the same time, I find myself completely understanding. I don't know that I necessarily think of the world as a good place—but maybe that's the fact that there are twelve other people out there trying to kill me that's talking—but I can't help but think that's she's right about the bigger picture. We've all got some kind of purpose in life. I don't know what mine is yet, and to fulfill it, I feel like I should probably know that vital piece of information. Besides, all I've done so far in my life is do drugs, swear like a sailor, and kill people. That's a far cry from fulfilling my destiny or whatever.

"How about you? What do you believe?" she asks.

"That I've got a purpose. I don't know what the fuck that purpose is yet, and I'm a far cry from fulfilling it, but I've got one. And I think that my soul—for lack of better term—is going to be here until I get it right. This body will die, and my soul will move on to another one and another one until I've lived up to my destiny or whatever."

The words don't seem like enough when they're coming out of my mouth; they don't quite capture how complex the whole question seems to be. Maybe it's just because I'm not high. All of that sort of thing makes way more sense after a joint or two, I won't lie. Oh, to have one right now.

"Maybe you have done what you're supposed to do and you just don't know it yet," Esther says, ever the optimistic one.

"We'll see, I guess." Over near the Cornucopia, Aim is looking around and since Satin and Azure are deep in conversation, probably plotting not only how to finish the Games but also total world domination, it's obvious that he's looking for Esther. "Your partner's looking for you."

She walks over to where he's standing and sits him down so that she can look at his eye. It isn't infected, but it doesn't look good at all. A doctor would have taken the whole eye at this point, but none of us has the balls (or ovaries, as it were) to mess with that. With the tenderness that we've now come to expect from her, Esther gently peels back his bandage and cleans the wound. Aim is a rock, of course, and doesn't even flinch when we all know that his eye has to hurt like hell.

Today I have lunch duty, which isn't really all that bad. In our packs, we had some stuff like dried fruit, beef jerky—things we can eat on the run. But our rations also included freeze dried field rations that people used to use in the military; all we have to do is add hot water and shake it up, and we've got a nearly edible meal. Today, it's going to be chicken chunks for all of us.

After heating the water and adding it to each of our meals, we sit down to eat and talk shop. As a formality—because let's face it, we're all going to follow Azure's orders whether we really like the plan or not—Satin lays out the situation and asks if anyone has any suggestions.

"At this point, Esther and I have been taking two watches a night so that we can always have two on guard and you don't have to take the double shifts while you're trying to recover. But this is leaving us with getting maybe four hours of sleep a night, and we can't do it anymore. We need a new rotation. We also need to get out there hunting again. Does anyone have any suggestions?" she asks.

"Why don't we just have one person at a time take watch?" Esther suggests. It seems like a natural suggestion from her, the girl who seems to trust everyone.

"Divide the night into five watches? That's a lot of rotation," Azure says. "That will leave us more room for error."

"We could split it into three watches like we have now. Two people will be able to sleep through the night and take two of the three watches the next night with the person who had the first watch the night before. It would rotate us and keep us sharper," Satin explained, clearly liking Esther's idea.

"And if there's trouble? What do we do then?" Azure asks, though his question is directed to Satin and not as harsh as it would have been if directed towards us.

"We can have a designated back up in case you need to do a perimeter walk or what have you."

Azure nods a small, proud smile as he listens to his district partner. There's something proprietary about the way that he has her hand in his, their fingers intertwined. I don't have anyone else's hand to hold to stop them from shaking, so instead I keep tapping on my thigh.

"Does anyone have any objections?" Azure asks, though it's obvious that any questions or concerns will be overlooked. No one bothers and a silence settles over camp. It's a loud, deafening silence and I finally can't stand it anymore.

"Now that that's established, let's stop sitting around and go hunting. Do we have any plans about that?" I snap before I can stop myself.

"We're getting there," our fearless leader answers, his voice grating and harsh. "We got ourselves all banged up last time we went in there without a plan. Now that we've run into that group, we know a little bit more about them. We know that Cori can fight, and so can the little Asian-looking chick—"

"Ahlyce," Esther reminds us.

"Yeah, her. And that Asher kid from D8 can throw knives. D11 boy—"

"Cadogan."

"Yeah, him. He doesn't seem to fight much. And neither did the little red-haired chick—"

"Brie."

"Would you stop that?" His face gets redder and redder each time Esther says a name. "We know things about them now. This time, we'll have a different strategy going in. We have the advantage of distance weapons, so we'll get a good vantage point and then take them out long range."

Aim eyed the weapons stash and I can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he realizes that Azure is right. We have the weapons to take them out from a distance and get away clean. He nods his agreement with Azure. Esther is doing the same.

"I think we should wait until tomorrow. Satin and I are practically dead, and you're going to need us to be as alert as possible if we're going to go hunting tomorrow," Esther says. Azure glances at his partner, and she nods. She's exhausted, and he sees it.

"Alright, tomorrow, we move out. I'll take first watch; Hadrian, you take second and Aim will take the third. I want each of us to choose our weapons in advance and make sure that they're working before we head out tomorrow. We can't afford another bust like last time," Azure announces. Then he took Satin by the hand and they left; I'm guessing that they're walking the perimeter.

Aim is standing by the pile of weapons, taking stock of what we have, which is basically everything. My trident is gleaming brightly in the sunlight, beckoning me to pick it up. I remember the way it felt in my hand when I was fighting; the grip is soft and leather, with a strap for me to slip around my wrist when I carry it. It's strong—probably a steel-titanium alloy; that's what we use at home. No, the trident doesn't have my name on it, but it might as well have.

_I'm yours, _it tells me. _All yours. They'll try to take me away. _

Aim's hand is on the handle of the trident, and that's not where it belongs. He doesn't have the finesse or the aim—ironic, I know—to throw a trident. He should be using a club or a rock. He can't touch my trident. The longer he holds it, the more my hands shake.

"This yours, man?" he asks, handing it to me.

_Yes, _it says silently. _Yes, I am. Hold me. Take me home._

I take the trident from his hand, and cradle it like a lost child. It's mine, it's home, and it feels right. Not in the hands of that brute anymore. Now he's got a gun.

"Why do you think they gave us a gun?" he asks.

"Maybe they got bored," I answer before I can really think about it.

"No, that's not it," Esther says as she looks over Aim's shoulder. "The Gamemakers put it here on purpose. No matter how much we prepare, no matter what skills you have…none of us would know how to use a gun. Even if it's loaded, the only thing any of us is going to be able to do with it is pistol whip them."

"Fantastic," Aim replies, a small smile on his face. I don't like his smile, I've decided. It never reaches all the way to his eyes, not like real smiles are supposed to. I think that he could probably brutally murder all of us and still be smiling.

_He would kill you all without batting an eye. And just think, it could have been Odern here. Odern wouldn't stand a chance against a monster like him…_

My hands aren't shaking anymore, not with the trident in my hands. No, now I'm feeling right again. I'm a god again, and it feels good. The shaking will fade and I'll rule the arena. It'll be just like it should be.

_I can't wait. You could take them both._

I could. I could take them and the shaking would stop. But I think this might require more delicacy. I'll need them to help me take the others out, and then one by one, I'll end them. I just have to be patient. Tomorrow, I'll have my chance.

_Okay. Until tomorrow. I can wait until tomorrow. _

* * *

**I know, Hadrian's mind is getting a little more fractured than it was before. This, children, is why you shouldn't do drugs. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed. If I didn't reply to your review, I am very sorry. I will get to all of these this time, I promise.**

**And for the question of this chapter: Which tributes do you think are the most likely to go crazy, and what kind of crazy. Will they be like, drooling-mess crazy or maybe I'm-going-to-kill-everyone-to-put-them-out-of-their-misery kind of crazy, or maybe just going-on-a-killing-rampage crazy?**


	27. Day Ten: A Hole in the World

**Cadogan Sopheap, 17, District 11**

When I was at home, I used to wake up with a crick in my neck—usually from sleeping on a nasty lumpy pillow. Every time I woke up, despite the fact that I went to sleep on the same lumpy pillow every night, I still seemed to expect to wake up with my neck feeling better. It never happened. So instead, I always woke up a little bit surprised at how much my neck hurt.

The same thing is happening to me now. My body started aching the first day I was in the arena, and it hasn't stopped since. And somehow, when I finally drift off to sleep at night, I keep expecting to wake up feeling at least a little bit better. But every morning is the same, and I wake up aching worse than I did when I went to sleep. The only thing better about waking up than finally falling asleep is that it means that I'm still alive.

Well, that, and Cori.

One of the few things that makes waking up in this hellhole worth it—other than the fact that it means I'm still alive—is Cori. Every day, she's the one that gently shakes me awake and whispers, "It's time to get up Cadogan. It's time to face another day." So far, those words have pulled me out of nightmares and kept me company on a long watch. I know it sounds like ridiculous romantic fluff, but a kind word and a good, kind companion is worth more than any weapon in this arena.

"Hey, Cadogan. It's time to get up. Time to face another day," she whispers in my ear. Her warm breath tickles my ear, and I can't stop the small smile that spreads across my face.

"Rise and shine, huh?" I ask, finally opening my eyes. Cori is getting dark circles under her eyes, and she's lost weight despite the edible plants that I've been gathering. Of course, I imagine that I don't look much better. Not with the way that we've been living.

"No shining required. Just rising," she answers, her voice surprisingly cheerful. She's smiling, even though I know she's exhausted, and it's a great thing.

"I think I can manage that. And maybe even a little bit of shining."

"Perfect. Today we're getting things moving."

I already knew this, of course, since we'd talked about it last night when I couldn't quite fall asleep after my watch. She was supposed to be taking a watch with Brie, but Brie couldn't keep her eyes open. The poor thing couldn't keep her eyes open, and that's become the major concern of our camp. The wound is swollen and angry-looking, and the flesh around it is hot to the touch. If I were at home, I would be able to find her the right leaves that would help with the infection, but they're nowhere to be found in the desert. The way things are looking, we're going to lose her leg.

If we're lucky.

If we're not lucky—and let's face it, we haven't been so far—she'll lose a lot more.

"How's Brie?" I ask, though I'm not really sure I want the answer.

Cori just shook her head, clearly not wanting to answer, so I let her have her silence and went to check on Brie myself. She looks awful; her skin is pale, she's sweating buckets, and what's worse is that she's awake to feel it all. She knows she's sick, she knows she's in trouble, and she knows that she'll be lucky if her leg is the only thing she loses.

"Cadogan?" she whispers.

"The one and only," I say, though my voice doesn't have any of the enthusiasm that I wish it did. I remember the days that I put on the enthusiasm for my brothers and sisters when telling them that we were going to be fine even when they could hear my stomach growling. I force myself to dig deeper and find that enthusiasm, because I can't stand to lose this girl. I carried Icitha across the arena, only to have her die in my arms. I can't have Brie do the same.

"You have on your fake happy voice," she tells me. "What's going on?"

"We're going to get your cure today, which means that we're moving," I answer.

"I thought we were gonna move at night."

I sigh, wishing that we could, but knowing that plan was not going to pan out. For us to travel at night, I need to take the lead, and I can't do that if I have to carry Brie. Besides, we all need to be light on our feet and anyone carrying Brie is going to be slow and heavy-footed. We just wouldn't be able to do it.

"Change of plans. We're moving today."

"You're carrying me?"

"That's the plan."

"Cadogan…I can smell my leg. The smell makes me feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"You can't afford to throw up. If you throw up, I'm gonna throw up, and that's just going to be one big mess."

She smiles, but it's a weak smile and I don't like it one bit. Not when it tells me that she's barely hanging on to hope. I can see the beginnings of resolve in her eyes, and it hurts; it's a sharp, burning pain in my chest that makes me think of just how much I don't want to be here. I want to go _home _and right now, that's all I see when I look at Brie.

"Now, we've got some packing to do, but you start getting ready, okay?" I tell her, like there's actually something she can do. But I guess there is. Now she has time to get ready for the long and painful journey that we're going to make to the Career camp. We don't actually know where it is, but the arena can only be so big and eventually, we'll stumble on it. And we know which way they retreated after they attacked us, so at least we have somewhere to start.

She nods and I can see the tears in her eyes. "I'll be ready."

I try not to retreat too quickly from where she's resting, but it's difficult. Cori is waiting for me near our very meager supplies, a grim look on her face. So much for being chipper today.

"That's why we've got to get moving today," she whispered so that Asher—who is lingering nearby munching on some plant roots—won't overhear. "She might last another day without medicine."

I sigh heavily, knowing that she's right. We had discussed all of this last night, but it still hurts to think about it, especially by the light of day. People always seem to be afraid of night—usually because of the darkness—but I can't think of anything more harsh than the light of day. Everything seems so much more real when it isn't covered in the soft dimness of shadow. At night, you can pretend that everything is going to be okay, even when you know it's not.

"What do you need me to do?" I ask. We appointed Cori as our leader for a reason: she's kept us organized and as relatively well-fed as you can be during the course of the Hunger Games. We—meaning me and her—have worked out a pretty good system; she knows that I'm the one to go to about edible plants and finding water (though she's pretty good with finding water herself) and I defer to her about safety issues and weaponry.

"We're going to need as much food as we can carry. Take Ahlyce, check the traps and get whatever edible plants you can find. You do better with Ahlyce than I do," she whispers.

To say that I do better with Ahlyce is relative. Yeah, Ahlyce tends to be less snarky with me than she is with Cori, but it's a bit of a stretch to say that she's nice to anyone. As the days have passed, she's gotten to be less and less manageable, and more of a danger to the alliance.

Truthfully, though, spending time with Ahlyce becomes less and less bearable each time I have to do so. I know how it feels to lose your parents—it hurts in a way that can't be described. When I was a kid, I used to think that my parents were going to live forever; they were strong and safe, and they were always going to be there no matter what. And then someone took that away from me.

But I didn't let that destroy me. Yeah, I came away from it a little bit sadder, a little more cautious and a little more protective, but it didn't fundamentally change who I was. Our family pulled in tighter, we got closer and I did what I had to do to keep us that way. Ahlyce's family seems to have pulled together—from what she's told us—but she has also turned into a bitter, paranoid person. I could have become that, and every time I'm with her, I'm reminded of that fact. I don't like being confronted with what I could have been.

"I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," she says, her voice heavy. She sounds older than she did when she woke up this morning, and I know that I'm the only one of our group that is ever going to see that side of her. Perhaps it's because she knows that I'm not going to use it against her, the same way that I know she isn't going to use my moments of weakness against me. I give her a tight but honest smile and she rewards me with one of the same.

"Ahlyce! I need you to come with me to check the traps and try to find some more—"

"Of those damn plants. Yeah, I got it," she answers, not sounding too pleased at all about it, even as she throws her homemade, makeshift bow over her shoulder and grabs some arrows fashioned out of sticks and rocks.

Despite her tone of voice, she doesn't object any further as we head out. We've caught a small desert hare in one of our snares, but that's the only thing we've managed to catch. We're running out of edible vegetation in this area because we've been here for too long, but we manage to get enough until we can move to another area and find some more. It's all going to be bitter and disgusting, but at least we won't starve. And in the middle of the chaos of this arena, there's some peace in this moment—it reminds me just a little of digging up plants at home.

And then, as we're walking back, that peace is shattered and all hell breaks loose.

The first thing I notice that's off is the way that Cori greets me when we get back. Her smile—the one that was genuine when she woke me this morning—is tight and forced and just a little too brittle. Her posture is all wrong—she's too stiff and her head is cocked slightly to the side in a way that I've never seen on her before. Everything about this picture is wrong.

"Cadogan, where the…fuck have you been?" she demands, and that's when the alarm really starts going off loud and clear in my head. Granted, I've only known this woman—and yes, that is the right word—for two weeks, give or take, I know that she's probably never said a curse word in her entire life. Even when the Careers were attacking, she didn't swear. Yes, something is seriously wrong.

"Just out on patrol. You know that. There's no need to get snappy," I answer back, my voice purposefully sharp. Next to me, Ahlyce is tense. I can see her slowly reaching into her pocket for the sharpened piece of rock that she keeps there.

"You've been gone forever. There are some of us around here who want to actually get out alive, and we would appreciate it if you didn't waste time being such as slack-ass."

Her hands tighten into fists and I notice for the first time a few drops of blood dripping from her hand. She's hurt. And injury combined with her attitude? Someone's here, and they've managed to hurt her. She's trying to get us out of harm's way.

"If you don't like the way we're doing things, we can go, and you can do them yourself," I snap back, trying to force my voice into something harsh and cruel. Without waiting for an answer, I turn on my heel and stalk off, hoping that Ahlyce is going to follow me. Instead, I never make it that far.

"Not so fast, lover boy."

I haven't heard that voice since the night of the interviews. It was cold and threatening and scary then, and it's just as cold and threatening now. The last time I heard that voice, she was blaming District Nine for her unhappy childhood and promising revenge. I guess that's what she's here for.

"Take another step and I'll cut her spine out with my hatchet," Ace says, her voice low and threatening and completely serious as she pushes Cori towards me and steps into full view. She has a hatchet pressed into Cori's back. I freeze. Ahlyce takes another step and I hear Cori biting back sharp cries of pain.

"Stop moving," I hiss at her, and thankfully, she listens.

"What's the point?" Ahlyce asks. "You swore to have your revenge on District Nine, and whether we move or not, you're still going to kill her."

"True. But Cadogan over here isn't going to leave her. Not when he's thinking that maybe he'll be able to save her if he stays. Am I close?" Ace asks me, though the confidence in her voice tells me that she already knows the answer.

She's right. I can't leave Cori behind, even if staying means that our chances of survival decrease. Asher is around here somewhere, and so is Brie. I can't leave them. I can't leave Cori, either. I have to try _something. _

"How cute. I've been watching you since I had my little practice round, and I can tell that there's something going on here. The way she always wakes you up, and the way that you like to put your arm around her. That's not just normal alliance stuff, you know? On the morning of my Reaping, I remember watching this couple walking hand in hand down the street and thinking that it would be so easy to take them out. Just to end their lives right there with the flick of my wrist. I imagine that this is what it would feel like."

As she's talking, I notice something moving out of the corner of my eye. Asher is slowly approaching from behind, and the sound of Ace's talking is covering his footsteps. If I can keep her talking, he'll be able to get closer before she hears anything. The closer he gets, the better our chances of this attack actually working.

"Ace, I know that you're hurting—" I start, but she cuts me off.

"No! You don't know! After La—after it happened, everyone kept saying that they knew how I felt, but you _don't_! You don't know how it feels to have everything taken away from you! I wake up in the morning completely alone, and I'm still that way when I go to sleep at night because someone took her away from me! They cut her down and made her bleed…they tore her apart and put her scalp on a necklace! You don't know what that's like—"

Her violent ranting stops when Asher raises a large rock over his head and brings it crashing down on her skull. Ace drops to the ground, but her hatchet is still in her hand. As soon as she's down, Cori turns and kicks her in the side before she has a chance to get up. Unfortunately, Ace doesn't stay down for long, though she's looking pretty unsteady on her feet.

She takes several unfocused swings at Cori; Cori dodges them easily and throws several back. One or two of them connect, but it doesn't seem to slow Ace down very much. Instead, she seems to be getting more focused, despite the bump on the head. She throws a punch at Cori and this one catches her in the gut. At least it was a hand and not the hatchet.

Asher grabs the rock again and swings at Ace, but before it can connect, he drops to the ground, screaming in pain. When he rolls over, I can see an arrow lodged in his side. Where it came from is another story. I look around, trying to figure out where it came from when I see the top of a head peaking over a rock. It's a bright, fiery red head, which means that not only do we have Ace on our hands, but we've got the Careers here as well. Perfect.

I'm caught in No-Man's-Land, completely unsure of what to do. There's a voice in my head screaming at me to grab the nearest weapon—a rock, a club, a semi-large stick—and jump into the fight with Ace to help Cori, but then I remember that I know nearly nothing about combat. The other part of me knows that I need to do something about the Careers, but again, I don't know what exactly to do. Beside me, Ahlyce quickly draws one of her makeshift arrows and starts firing towards the rock where we saw Satin's head peeking out. Realizing that I'm no good in any fight, I rush to where Asher is laying on the ground.

His face is pale—too pale, with dark circles under his eyes and pale, pale lips. He isn't crying, but his face is twisted in pain as he tries to keep his body still. Blood is seeping around the edge of the wound, and I don't dare try to pull the arrow out. That would only make it worse.

"Cadogan, watch—" And then Asher—poor, wounded Asher—is pushing me away. I lose my balance and topple sideway, my face scraping against the hard desert rock. When I look over, the long, golden tines of a trident are sticking out of Asher's chest and he's gasping for air like a fish out of water.

"Can't breathe…"

Nothing else comes out before his eyes roll back in his head, and he's gone. Only then to I realize that pushing me out of the way is what saved my life. If he hadn't, the trident would have hit me and I would be the one dead on the ground. His last act alive was saving my life. Here's hoping I live up to that.

Looking away from Azure, I see the Hadrian—the Career from D4—running towards me. The trident clearly must be his, so I do what any sane person would: I grab it and run in the opposite direction. I don't know if he's in hot pursuit, but I'm not looking back.

Instead, I look at where Cori is still fighting with Ace. Ace is swinging the hatchet with everything in her, her face contorted with rage, but Cori has managed to evade it so far. Their movements are almost graceful, like a dance. It isn't the kind of dance that I would ever want to do, and it definitely isn't one that I want to watch someone I care about dancing. I say a silent prayer to whatever god may be paying attention to please keep Cori safe.

Behind me, Hadrian's footsteps are getting louder and I know that I won't be able to outrun him. This is a guy who has trained for these Games; he's in the best shape of his life, and he knows how to use a weapon. I glance back over my shoulder, trying to get a look at my pursuer, just to see how much distance is between us. Only then do I notice that Hadrian isn't staring at me. He's staring at the trident in my hand.

Now, common sense would dictate never giving a weapon back to a Career, especially not a weapon that they are particularly adept with. However, my options are rather limited. He's either going to catch me, kill me with his bare hands, and then take the trident _or _he's going to catch me, take the trident and then kill me. Clearly, this calls for a new strategy.

So I stop and hurl the trident as far as I can; it clatters to the ground at Ahlyce's feet, and Hadrian takes off in pursuit of it, forgetting that I even exist. The look Ahlyce gives me would be enough to stop anyone dead in their tracks. It takes me a minute to realize what this looks like to her: she thinks that I was trying to kill her. She must think I was trying to kill her and setting a Career on her in the process. No wonder she's mad. Immediately, she stops shooting arrows and takes off running, Hadrian in pursuit.

I don't bother to chase her down, not when Cori is still fighting Ace. I can see more blood on Cori than Ace, which makes my heart pound harder than it already was. Cori aims a quick kick at Ace's leg and it connects, knocking the other girl off balance. Before she can climb on top of her to pin her down, Ace is rolling out of the way and delivering a kick of her own, bringing Cori to the ground. They're rolling around in a fury of fists and feet with a hatchet mixed in, and I can't really tell who is winning or losing.

After several minutes of rolling around, Cori finally gets a grip on Ace's wrist and slams her hatchet hand into the ground. The first time, nothing happens; the second time, nothing happens; the third time, her hand cracks as it hits the pavement and the hatchet slips from her grip. Ace wriggles towards it, trying to get out from underneath Cori, but Cori beats her to it. Before Ace can get too far, Cori throws herself towards the hatchet, grabs it, and swings it as hard as she can.

The hatchet buries itself in Ace's skull, sending blood and bone fragments scattering all across the ground.

The world gets very still for a moment, as all the chaos of the battle clears away, leaving two dead bodies before us. The arrows that were raining down on us from where the Careers were perched have turned to less deadly rocks. Ahlyce and Hadrian are nowhere to be seen. Cori is alive and breathing, and Ace is dead. There are worse situations that we could be in at this moment.

"We've got to find some better cover," Cori calls to me. She takes off running behind one of the many boulders, close to where Brie was sleeping this morning. I quickly follow her and we tuck ourselves out of sight. We're one boulder over from Brie, and before going to check on her, we stop and take a long moment to collect ourselves.

"Where did Ahlyce go?" Cori asks, leaning her head against my shoulder as she tries to slow her breathing.

"She thinks I tried to kill her, so she took Hadrian's trident and ran off," I whisper. Cori stares at me for a moment like I might be insane and hallucinating. I'm not insane; if I were going to be insane and imaging things, they would be a lot better than being in the Hunger Games. "Asher didn't make it."

She nods gravely. "I know. I saw. He…I'm gonna miss him."

I nod back and lean heavily against her. "Me, too."

After a moment of silence for our friend—yes, he was a friend—we both look towards the rock where Brie was resting and head in that direction. Before we get there, though, we hear more voices.

"You want it back?"

"I think that was fairly obvious. Give it to me now, damnit!"

"I'll tell you what," Ahlyce's voice says. "If I give it back, you take me with you. You introduce me into the Career alliance. Tell them that I helped you, and they'll let me in."

"And you promise you'll give it back?" Hadrian's voice is small and almost uncertain, like a child's would be.

"Get me in and I promise I'll give it back."

"Good," he answers. "Now, we just have to take care of one last thing…"

A bolt of dread shoots through me and I try to run, to move, to do something—anything—to stop what's coming, but Cori's hand on my chest stops me. I hear the sickening crunch of bone snapping, and it hurts. The sound physically hurts me, deep in my chest. Sitting still is killing me—I need to try to do something—but I can't move. Finally, the voices and footsteps retreat. Only then do we round the corner.

As soon as we do, I drop to my knees and lose what little breakfast I had managed to get down. When there is nothing left in my stomach, the motion still continues, and I keep dry heaving. It's as if my body is trying to expel the image by forcing everything out of my body, but it doesn't work. No matter how much I try to empty my body of everything I've consumed, the image doesn't fade.

The image of Brie, little Brie who was so sweet and so gentle, lying there on her makeshift bed with a broken neck is burned into my memory forever. She looked so small and fragile—almost like a doll—laying there with her head twisted sideways. I go to her and fix it, turning it the way that it's supposed to be, but she still doesn't move. She's still warm, still feels alive. Tears are streaming down my cheeks and beside me, Cori is sobbing, holding Brie's hand. It could be minutes or hours later that we stop holding on to Brie and start holding on to each other.

"Hey Cadogan," Cori whispers, her voice startlingly loud in the silence.

"Yeah?"

"You remember the first night in here? When you asked if you could hug me?"

"Yeah. You told me that everything was going to be alright."

"Will you hold me now?"

I don't answer with words. Instead, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into my lap. Her head rests against my chest, and I can't resist running my fingers through her hair. It's a bloody, tangled mess, but the motion is soothing. Her hand slips into one of mine and she presses herself closer to me. Having her close is comforting. I know it's a stupid thought, but it feels better to have her close, like I could protect her (even though we both know she's the one protecting me). My arms tighten around Cori, as if I can fill the hole in my heart if I can just get her close enough. If I can get her close enough, maybe I can keep her here, with me. Maybe I can protect her like I couldn't protect Brie.

"Hey Cadogan?" she whispers again after another long silence.

"Yeah?"

"Do you wish sometimes that you couldn't feel anything?"

It's an odd question, and I'm not entirely sure that I like it. "What do you mean?"

"It hurts. Losing Brie and losing Asher…it hurts so much. All I've felt since I got in here is sadness and…it just feels hopeless, you know? And I can't help but wonder if it would be better not to feel anything at all."

"No. When you stop feeling things…that's when you become one of them. That's when you get to be like the Careers, or like Ahlyce. They're so cut off from their feelings about other people that they lose their humanity. They don't have a problem killing another person and then going back to camp for dinner. If we stop feeling, we'll turn into them. It's better to take the pain than to be like that."

She thinks on it for a long time before nodding. "And if we didn't feel anything, we couldn't have this."

"This?"

And that's when she kisses me.

* * *

**So, we're getting [maybe?] a plot twist there with Ahlyce and her little deal. Obviously, I didn't get this update out as quickly as I wanted to, but I'm hoping the next one will be faster because I'm super excited about where this is going. **

**Chapter Question: What is something that you want to see happen that you haven't seen enough of, or that has been hinted at but hasn't happened? Or just what would you like to see in general?  
**


	28. Day Eleven: Poker Face

**Monty Cantle, 18, District 10**

We let the sun set before we started making our way towards the Career camp. Riden says that we should have moved earlier—right after we heard the three cannon fire—but I talked him out of it. His argument was that if we were going to take out the Careers—and who else could cause that many cannons at once?—that we should do it right after they had obviously attacked because they would be more vulnerable. I'm just saying, though, that if there was just an attack, they're going to be more on guard. I guess he agreed with that logic, because he mumbled something about waiting for the cover of darkness and didn't move again until night fell.

As we were trudging our way towards the Career's camp, the day's deaths flashed in the sky. Three total, matching the cannons that we heard earlier. The first is the face of the chick from D7. Even now, in what is basically her obituary picture, she still scares the shit out of me. I can't help but wonder if I'm going to see Cori's face—the girl from D9—up there, too. Her partner is long since dead, but Ace seemed like the salt-the-ground type.

The next face is the boy from D8—Asher. In his picture, he was smiling. It looks like a good, kind-hearted smile, like one that I would get from any of the guys—or Cincha—on my crew. Even when they were teasing me about being a giant adopted by a family of dwarves or giving me that godawful nickname, they were always smiling. Seeing the dead boy's smiling face reminds me too much of home; too much of what I'm missing, even if what I'm missing is a crew of stinky guys calling me the Shit Whisperer.

The next face isn't the girl from D9. Instead, it's a face that I'd been waiting to see since day one. The tiny red-haired girl from home. Brie.

It's weird. I've been waiting to see her face in the night sky for almost two weeks now, and now that I'm seeing it, I'm still shocked. I mean, yeah, the way that she followed me around like a lost puppy was annoying as hell, but she was from home. She had probably gone to some of the same places that I had gone and seen some of the same sights that I've seen. And now she's dead. I'm the only one left from home.

I'm the only one left from home and it feels really lonely.

"We should review the layout before we go in," Riden whispers, interrupting my thoughts. I quickly sketch out layout of the Career camp. The last time I was there, Brie was with me.

_She was blushing as she heard the moaning and groaning from the D1 pair. Before she could see or hear anything else, she quickly covered her ears and turned her back. Her face was bright red for a good ten minutes after seeing the whole thing…_

I push her to the back of my mind. I can't let the ghost of some girl, even if she is a girl from home, get in my head and psych me out. She's gone and there's nothing in this world that can bring her back. There's no sense in crying over spilled milk, and I can't bring her back. No point in getting myself killed over a girl that I can't bring back. No point at all.

I can't be a hundred percent sure about where they're going to stand or where they're going to be when we attack, but based on the lay of the land, I can figure out where they're going to go. One thing that I've learned is that cattle—and people—are always going to take the easiest way out. This usually means the most direct route, even if that means running through a large patch of cactus. So I can judge where they're going to go and how I can get them there.

Earlier, while we were sitting around waiting to get moving, I explained this principle to Riden. He didn't really get it. Maybe it's because he's too rooted in logic to understand that in the thick of things, when something is hot on your tail and you just want to get the hell away, you take the quickest and easiest route. As I explained this, his only response was, "What good is the quickest and easiest route if it gets you killed?"

People skills aren't really his thing.

"Riden, when you're running away from something that is scary as hell, you're not thinking that the easy way could get you killed. You're probably just thinking that you wanna get the hell out of dodge. Logic kinda goes out the window."

He didn't answer, but instead sat there, like he really was deep in thought about how people might not always be a hundred percent logical all the time. He didn't ask me about it again, but instead just continued to follow my lead. He still is following my lead. It seems weird that he's going to follow my lead on this after the whole thing was _his _plan. But then, I guess using an ally's strengths is the point of having an ally.

When we arrive at the Career camp, we settle in behind a large boulder that is just outside of the perimeter that they have set up. Thankfully, it's still within earshot so that we actually have some idea of what is going on. What's going on, apparently, is an argument.

"He had no right to make that decision for the rest of us," one voice—a guy's—complains. "You can't just go around and pull people into the alliance all willy-nilly like that."

"Or maybe she'll be a good addition, Aim. She cooked tonight, which means that Satin and I didn't have to. Do you know how nice it is to not have to cook after doing it for days?" a female voice answers. That's gotta be Esther, then.

"And the only reason you can guarantee she didn't poison us all is because Satin sat there and watched her. Hadrian made a stupid move, and we can't afford those. We should take him out."

"That would be hasty, I think. Let's just see how she settles in."

"Settles in? She feels entitled to be here. She's going to do as she sees fit without even thinking about how she's affecting the rest of us…"

They must be moving away from where we're situated, because their voices are starting to fade away and I can't hear them anymore. There's silence for a long time before I can hear anything else. It's Azure, and he's giving out the watch schedule.

"Hadrian and Esther take the first shift. Ahlyce and I will take the second, and Satin and Aim will take the last one. If anything goes wrong, get someone from the next shift to help you out. Is this understood?"

Azure's voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. Clearly, he's the ringleader. I gesture to Riden, and he clearly gets the message that I'm sending. If we can take out Azure in this assault, we'll have done some serious damage to the Careers. We'll be sure to position some of the bombs to do the most damage to Azure.

Hadrian and Esther take their places standing guard. Despite her preaching earlier about being open to taking in Ahlyce, she doesn't look particularly happy with Hadrian right now. It might have something to do with the way that he keep twirling his trident around or the way that he looks a little too fidgety to really be reliable. As the rest of the camp starts settling in, Riden and I slip out from behind our rocks and begin to position our bombs where we want them.

Riden is smaller than I am, which makes it easier for him to move quietly, so he takes the side of the camp that's closest to Hadrian and Esther. I move towards the other side, where the rest of the group is sleeping. Well, most of them are sleeping. Satin and Azure aren't sleeping. What they're doing can only be called…cuddling. Yeah, they're _cuddling_.

"Go to sleep," Azure whispers to her. "You've been running on empty for too long."

"You've been hurt, and this place isn't going to run itself. Besides, I'm fine now that I'm finally getting some sleep."

"Well, if sleep makes you feel better, then you should listen to me and go to sleep. I need my girl sharp so we can get through this."

Satin doesn't say anything for a long time. When she finally does talk, she sounds more exhausted than I feel—which is pretty damn tired. It's too dark for me to see her face, but I'm betting that if I could, I would see dark shadows, deep lines, and general unhappiness.

"Hold me while I sleep?" she asks, her voice sounding small and uncertain.

"You have to ask?" he answers. There's the smallest twinge of humor and affection in his voice and it sounds almost wrong on him. Satin doesn't seem to mind.

"Wake me up when you go to take your shift?"

He doesn't answer this time, and I'm betting that he's not going to do it. Then again, our explosions aren't going to be quiet, from what I understand, so that will wake her up if he doesn't. They don't talk anymore; instead, she snuggles closer and they fall asleep.

As soon as they're out, I place two bombs near their sleeping area. It's easier than it probably should be. All I have to do is dig a shallow hole and sprinkle some dirt over the top so that they can't see what they're about to step on. I put two more near where Aim and Ahlyce are resting. There is a narrow walkway that leads away from their campsite; since Riden is blocking off their other exit, this is where they're going to go. Along the way, I set a trail of the bombs and save a few to throw in the event that some of them escape.

"Psst! Azure! Wake up!" A loud, female stage whisper cuts through the night. Esther. She must have heard Riden setting his bombs. Shit.

"What is it?" The answering voice isn't Azure's. It's Satin's.

"Hadrian heard something. We were going to get Azure to come investigate it."

"Let him sleep. I'll come."

I duck back behind a rock so that they can't see me. When they're out of sight, I make my way back to where Riden is waiting.

"Have you set them?" Riden asks. I want to give him a smart-ass answer, but I'm fairly certain that sarcasm would go over his head.

"Yeah, everything is set. Do you wan to kick things off or do you want me to do it?" I ask.

He grins slowly, and I think it's the first time I've ever seen him smile. Well, it's not really a smile. It's like the bastard cousin of a smile. But whatever it is, he's doing it and it's pretty creepy, actually. For someone who is so rooted in logic, it doesn't seem like he would express his emotions so openly. But whatever. I'm just ready to get this whole thing over and done with. It brings me one step closer to home, and at this point, I don't really care what I have to do to get there.

Esther, Hadrian, and Satin are about to walk off when Riden lobs the first bomb over the rock that we're hiding behind. It goes off with a loud bang that is going to have my ears ringing for at least the next three days. I hear a crunching noise and look up to see all three of them sprawled on the ground. As the dust settles, Esther and Satin start to move very slowly, though they're covered in blood. Hadrian is just lying there, cradling his trident in his arms.

Satin is the first to get her voice back, and when she does, she doesn't hold anything back. "Attack! We're under attack!"

The affect is almost instantaneous. The noise seems to jolt all three of them into movement. Hadrian stands slowly, blood flowing freely from a wound in his shoulder. Satin's first move is to start looking around and backing up, away from the line where we've put our bombs. Esther follows suit.

"They're not moving towards the line. Throw one behind them," I whisper. Riden nods and follows my orders with surprisingly little protest.

Riden is a smart guy, but his throwing ability is not the best. In fact, it's not even all that good. Ideally, the bomb should have landed right behind Satin; that would have pushed them towards the outer edge of our circle of bombs, which is exactly what we want. Instead, the bomb lands too far behind them—near the other side of the camp—and pushes them farther towards the middle.

At this point, the others have emerged from their sleeping areas. Azure looks wide awake, a knife in his hand. Ahlyce has a bow in her hand—new and shiny—complete with arrows that will fly straight and true. Aim has grabbed a short sword, but his walk is looking…off. That's when I notice that he's got a patch over one eye. He must have injured it in an attack at some point. Hadrian is looking worse than Aim; he's leaning heavily on the trident—more like it's holding him up than he's holding it up.

"Damnit, Riden! Give me those!"

He stares at me for a moment, completely stone-faced. I'm pretty sure that it's just because he doesn't really like me giving him orders, but I don't think he's going to admit that his aim sucks any times soon. I wish it were easy to snatch a bomb from someone's hand, but it's not. Instead, I have to actually wait for him to hand it to me, and by that point in time, they've gotten their bearings.

"They have explosives. The first one came from that direction," Satin says. I can only assume that she's pointing.

"We need to arm up," Aim says, sounding almost excited about the fight. I peek over the top of the rock and see him heading for the weapons pile. I quickly lob one of my bombs towards their weapons stash. It lands about a foot from Aim. There's blood everywhere. I can't help but be sickly fascinated by the remains of a bloody hand and foot.

"Aim!" Esther calls his name and runs towards him. What's sad is that he's still alive. He reminds me of one of the cows back home—after it's been run through the meat grinder—but he's still alive. He's screaming and moaning and in pain, and there's nothing anyone can do for him.

"Please…it hurts. God, it hurts…" Aim keeps rambling on, and his voice keeps getting fainter and fainter. The smoke and dust have finally cleared enough for me to get a clear picture of Aim, and it's awful. When I finally find Aim and not his unattached body parts, I lose it. There's no other way to say it. Before I know it, my gut is burning and the very scant dinner that I had is coming back up again. It doesn't taste any better the second time around. Unfortunately, it's not like throwing up after having too much to drink. I don't feel better after having thrown up. Instead, I just feel weak.

Aim is lying against a rock, the bottom of one of his legs is gone. So is his left arm below the elbow. Sadly, that's not the worst part. What's the worst is the way that the bomb has torn him apart—there are chunks of flesh torn away from his side, and I can see his ribcage sticking out through the hole that the bomb made. He's using his right hand and what's left of his left arm to try to literally hold himself together.

It's weird. I saw what happened to Aliss in the beginning. I saw the way that her body was torn apart, the way that she was reduced to being a bloody smear on the front of Ace's shirt. These bombs aren't like that. Even though she was essentially blown apart, that little girl didn't suffer. She was there one minute and gone the next. There was no screaming, no terror, no pain. She was just gone.

I guess I had expected these bombs to work the same way, and they totally aren't. Instead, they're mangling their victims. Looking at what's left of Aim, I know that there is very little that can be done for him. He's bleeding at a ridiculous rate, and there's no way that he can be saved. Hopefully, he'll bleed out within a minute or two. But in the minute or two that it takes him to bleed out…he's going to suffer. He's in a world of hurt right now, and it's ugly. It's fucking ugly as hell.

"Pull yourself together. We still have work to do," Riden murmurs. The sight of Aim trying to keep his mangled body from falling apart doesn't seem to disturb him in the slightest. Instead, he takes another bomb from the bag and tosses it towards them. It lands too far away to do anything but make noise and blow up some dirt.

"We've got to move out. If we stay here, we're sitting ducks," Satin says calmly.

"We can't leave him—" Esther starts. I can't see what cuts her off, but at least they have the decency to stay quiet instead of saying, "He's a lost cause, leave him behind," in front of the dying man. Though, with the pain he's in, I really don't think he would notice.

"Take a minute, say your goodbyes," Azure says. They walk away—only after grabbing some serious weaponry—Hadrian and Ahlyce following behind them.

"Aim, I'm sorry. I'm sorry it came down to this. I wish it could have been different," she tells him, cupping his bloody cheek in her hand. He doesn't say anything; he just lays there, staring at anything but his body. I think he's probably in too much pain for him to really comprehend what's going on. Truthfully, I don't think I really understand what's going on. Finally, after a few seconds, he just screams again.

"I know it hurts, and I'm so, so sorry. Just hang on, okay. I'm going to make it stop. I'm going to make it so that you don't hurt anymore, okay? Is that okay?"

She sounds so soft and gentle; if a pretty girl had been talking to me like that four months ago, I would have had the same reaction he did. I would have done whatever she asked me to do. I would have been staring at her with moon-eyes the same way that Aim is right now.

"Just make it stop," he whimpers.

"Shhh, it's okay. I will. Now, this is going to be ugly, okay? It's going to be ugly, so I need you to close your eyes."

He closes his eyes, and Esther sets down the mace she had grabbed from the weapons pile. She cups his face in her hands and soothingly rubs her thumbs over his temples. Gently, like a mother putting her child to bed, she kisses him on the forehead.

"That's good. That's very good—"

And then the cracking of his neck drowns out her soothing words.

His blood is still on her hands when she grabs the mace that she dropped and goes off after the others. Riden and I quickly follow suit, trying to move as quickly and quietly as possible. I can't tell if the noise I'm hearing is a cannon firing or a bomb going off. With my ears ringing like this, they're all sounding the same to me.

"Let's go," I call when he falls behind. I can see the Careers up ahead of me, and they know that we're coming. I can tell because Ahlyce is launching arrows back at us. They all fly wide of us, thankfully, and we all keep right on running.

"They're not stepping on them!" Riden yells at me, like I don't notice this small problem.

"That's because we're not guiding them in the right direction. They need to go towards the small walkway. I've got plenty of them there," I tell him. I pull away from my partner and start to run around towards the other side of the camp, cutting off any possible escape route except for the one that we want them to take. Esther is trying to get away, but when she sees me, she turns and joins the rest of the group.

They're all trying to cram into the narrow passageway when I hear another explosion. I can't see anything, so I have to assume that they're all jammed into that narrow walkway. I run up to more screaming and carrying on. This time it's Hadrian. He's down, but he isn't blown the hell like Aim was. Both of his feet are missing, but he isn't in pieces or splattered all over the walls.

"Fuckin' A! Esther! Help me, please! Esther!"

I notice that he's not screaming for Satin or Azure or Ahlyce. He knows that they're too smart to come back for him. To smart to risk their own lives to come back for someone who was probably going to turn on them at some point anyway. After all, he was the one who brought in an outsider that they hadn't wanted or trusted. But Esther, the bleeding-heart from District Two—however _that _happened—is coming for him.

I can't see Riden in all of the chaos, but I know he's got to be around here somewhere. There's too much smoke and dust and blood everywhere, but he wouldn't run off and leave me here. He would stay to see how his plan worked out; he would stay until it wasn't safe for him to be here anymore. I try to watch where I step because I know that heading towards that walkway is dangerous, but I have a job to finish.

As I get closer, I can see more. I see Esther carrying Hadrian over her shoulder while he clutches at his trident and refuses to let go of it. Ahlyce is in the middle, an arrow at the ready, and Satin and Azure are leading the way at the front. Only after I get closer can see Riden. He's waiting on the other end of the walkway with more of the explosives.

Satin sees him before anyone else—though it doesn't do much good when you only have a spear and they have explosives. He starts hurling explosives again—none of which go where they're supposed to. They all either landed too short or too far away to do any damage. Satin hurled her spear at him, and the only thing that kept it from sinking into his chest was the explosions from is poorly-thrown grenades. The spear instead sank into his upper thigh.

Even when he looked down and realized that he had a giant spear sticking out of his thigh, he didn't scream. His face didn't even change expression. Seriously, he's a creepy guy. Instead, he starts to walk off as quickly as he can, still watching over his shoulder for everyone else. Ahlyce finally sees him and starts shooting at him. Before any of her arrows can hit him, he sees me at the back of the group.

"Monty!" he screams. "Monty, help!"

His voice is flat and dead; he's not really calling me for help. Why is he calling me? Only when I see Ahlyce turn her arrows towards me do I realize what he's doing. He has turned the attention away from him—the wounded one—and towards me, knowing that they're going to go after me because I seem the more threatening target. What an asshole. So much for loyalties. But then, after what he pulled with Brie, I should know better.

In my defense, he's always had a good poker face.

Before I can turn and run, there's a sharp pain in my chest followed by another in the abdomen; it stops me in my tracks and drops me to my knees. My body is pitching sideways and there's nothing I can really do about it. I'm too overwhelmed by the fire that's spreading through my body. I keep trying to force air into my lungs, but it doesn't want to come.

Around me, the fight is still raging. I still hear explosions and I see the ground exploding around me. Out in front, I see rocks falling from the sides and Satin pushing Azure out of the way. I see Esther carrying Hadrian and Ahlyce staring at…me? My chest still hurts and I can't get enough air to think about what that means.

I'm breathing. I'm opening my mouth and drawing air in. That means that I should be feeling like this. I shouldn't. I don't understand.

Finally, I glance down at my chest to find something long and metal sticking out of it. It's an arrow. One of Ahlyce's arrows. She shot me.

It's weird, I always thought there would be more blood. When we slaughter cattle at the ranch, there's always a lot of blood. And there was blood for everyone else: Aim and Hadrian bled. Why aren't I bleeding?

Oh, there it is. It's not coming out where I thought it would, but it's there. It's there in the coppery, metallic taste that fills my mouth. Blood. It's usually what keeps you alive, but now I'm choking on it. I can't breathe past it, and everything is getting dark.

* * *

**Author's Note: So, the plan that you've been seeing planned out is finally coming to fruition. I'm hoping that it lived up to your expectations, and I promise that the next chapter will further explore the outcomes of this attack. But let me know what you think!**

**Also, question of the chapter: Of the deceased tributes, if there was one that you could save, who would it be and why?  
**


	29. Day Eleven: The Greatest Show on Earth

**Satin Glossamer, 17, District One**

My body hurts. I'm not talking about the little aches and pains that I've had since the beginning of the Games. I'm talking about the kind of pain that steals the breath from your lungs and the words from your mouth. It's the worse kind: the kind that is ever-present with occasional moments of sharp, stabbing pain that come and go.

The only other time that I've felt anything like this was when I was nine. I had just started my training—excuse me, my "optional healthy lifestyle regimen"—and we'd been working on a climbing wall. The trainers—I mean, "healthy lifestyle facilitators"—put us in front of the wall with a various assortment of ropes and spears and everything but actual climbing gear.

"You won't get climbing gear in the arena, so you're just going to have to learn to get over it with what you might have," they told us.

And so that's what I did. I went head first at that wall, trying anything and everything that I could to get over the damn thing. This was back when I still had little, puny arms and before I had figured out that I couldn't use my arms to pull myself over. I fell off that wall more times than I care to remember—all from various heights and with various objects—before the trainer finally made me stop. Even when he was telling me that I was too little, that I would never make it, I had to have one more try.

"I can do it," I remember growling at him. "Let me try again!"

Maybe it was the forcefulness in my voice. Maybe it was the fact that I had fallen off that damn thing more times than either of us could remember and I still wanted to try it again. I think it was mostly so that he could laugh at me one more time. But for whatever reason, he let me have one last try.

I remember that being the longest wall climb that I have ever done—and I've done a hell of a lot of climbing walls in my life—but when all was said and done, I made it to the top. My puny little arms and wimpy little legs were completely exhausted by the time I got there, but I made it. I couldn't really breathe anymore—I sung between hyperventilating and gasping for breath—but it didn't matter. What mattered was that I had made it to the top. I had reached my goal and that wall hadn't beaten me.

That feeling—the breathless, aching excitement of having accomplished the most challenging feat of my life so far—lasted all of thirty seconds. After those thirty seconds, my complaining body finally stopped working with me and dropped like a rock. What would normally just be an embarrassing fall after pushing myself too hard turned into a dangerous ten foot fall that left me with a several broken ribs. If not for the trainer, I would have probably broken my neck.

It was the most painful experience of my life.

Until today.

Now, as I'm laying here under a pile of rock and debris, I just know that this has to be worse than that. There's no way that anything can hurt more than this does right now. There's a sharp pain in my stomach when I move, making breathing a newly painful experience. To make things worse, my head is pounding and my ears are ringing. It's all too loud and too chaotic.

"Tinny!"

Azure's voice cuts through the haze and my heart flutters. Yeah, that's not from the craziness. It doesn't matter that we're fighting for our lives or that I'm in serious pain; his voice still makes me smile and still makes me feel like a schoolgirl all over again.

"Azure! I'm right here!" I try to yell over the noise, but the deep breath required for yelling sends more pain tearing through me. I guess it must have been enough, though, because the next thing I know, his face is above me.

"Shit! Shit! Okay, um…just…hang on and let me get all of this off you, okay?" he says, his voice shaky as he sees everything piled on top of me. Just a moment ago, he was cold and calm, despite the explosions going on around us. Now there's a wildness in his eyes that I don't think I've ever seen before, and I don't like it. It's new and little bit frightening.

"I'm not really going anywhere," I answer, forcing a small smile onto my face. I have to stay calm. Everything that I know, like the fact that stomach wounds are usually fatal in the arena or that I have a large pile of heavy rocks piled on top of my legs, is telling me that this is not a situation that I want to find myself in. Even so, I have to stay calm. If I freak out, he's going to freak out and right now we can't afford that.

While he's working to get me free of the rocks, I glance over and see Esther working on Hadrian. He's a mess, but he's still alive, which is more than we can say for Aim. Esther snapping his neck is probably the best thing that's ever happened to that kid. Now, she's laid him down and is elevating his legs and applying pressure to both of the bloody stumps that used to be his feet, trying to get the bleeding stopped. Only after a minute do I realize that she's using what is left of Aim's bloody shirt to do so.

Ahlyce somehow got ahead of us and is standing at the ready with a bow, looking surprisingly stable. I can't say that I care too much for her—not that it matters that much right now—but I am grateful for her skills, especially after seeing the way she reacted to all the flashbulbs during our chariot rides. I'd half expected her to flip out on us. Instead, her head is on the swivel, constantly looking out for danger that all of us would be too preoccupied to notice. Thankfully, nothing comes. Riden retreated into the cloud of dust and smoke, and we haven't gone after him.

Admittedly, I'm not really in any kind of shape to go after him.

"Oh God, Tinny…"

Azure has always been one to use bad language, and I'll admit that I do it, too. It's one of those habits that I picked up from him. He once explained to me that the word "fuck" is not only his favorite curse word, but also his favorite word in general because it can be used as every part of speech. I had never realized that he put that much thought into grammar, but he has a point. It is a very multipurpose word.

So now, when he's not dropping his favorite curse word all over the place…that's when I know that I should be worried.

"What is it?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer. "How bad is it?"

"They're broken."

I try to push myself into a sitting position so that I can survey the damage, but it hurts like hell and I flop back to the ground. I try again, but again, the pain brings puts me flat on my back. After my fourth unsuccessful attempt, Azure stops letting me try to be self-reliant and pulls me up into a sitting position.

Staring down at my legs makes me realize several things. First, I notice that my legs are twisted in ways that legs are clearly not meant to be twisted. One of my knees is bent backwards. Looking at it makes me dizzy, not because it hurts, but rather because I've never seen a knee bent like that; the angle of it is wrong.

The second—and far scarier thing—that I notice is that I can't feel the pain in my legs. Not only can I not feel any pain, I can't feel anything at all. I should have been able to feel the pressure of the weight crushing them, but I didn't. I should have been able to feel the relief of Azure pulling them off of me, but I didn't. When it comes to my legs, I'm not feeling a damn thing.

Suddenly the pain-haze in my mind is gone and I'm icy calm. My mind starts moving more quickly as I start to think of everything that needs to be done. I take a deep breath, and no longer mind the blinding pain that comes with it. It's welcome now, like a friend.

"Azure?" I whisper.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to do something for me. It's gonna be pretty awful."

"I can do it."

"Good. I need you to straighten my leg. You're going to have to jerk my knee back into place, and it's going to be—"

He cuts me off. "Ugly, I know." He takes a deep breath. "I'm going to have to lay you back down. I can't hold you and set your leg at the same time."

I nod quickly. His hands are gentle as he lowers me back to the ground. Before he starts to work on my leg, he squeezes my hand reassuringly. If not for the lack of feeling in my lower body, I would probably find that gesture a little bit patronizing and annoying. After all, I am woman; hear me roar. But now, now that I can't feel that squeeze in my leg, it is entirely reassuring to feel it with my hands.

Hadrian is still groaning and crying and begging for someone to give him his feet back. I hear Esther's soothing coos and murmurings, and I wish I could believe them. I wish I could believe her when she tells him that she's going to make everything okay. I want to believe that Azure is going to set my legs, that it's going to be horrible and painful, but that everything will be okay.

"Shhh, it's okay. You'll be okay. Just hold on, and I'll fix you up, okay?" she's telling him. God, I want to believe it.

"Are you done yet?" I ask Azure. He's back to squeezing my hand, but this time he's being gentle with me.

"Yeah. I did it."

He knows what this means; I can see it written all over his face. No one else in our group can see it, I'm willing to bet, but I can tell. I see it in the way that he's clenching his jaw and the way that his hand is trembling just the slightest bit. Knowing him like I do—and I don't just mean in the Biblical, have to do six Hail Marys kind of way—I also know that he's thinking through all the possibilities of what's going to happen next.

"Thanks. It was making me dizzy looking at them."

"How much do you weigh?" he asks me abruptly, staring down at my broken legs.

"What?" Of all the questions that I was expecting him to ask, it wasn't that one.

"How much do you weigh?"

"You should know better than to ask a lady how much she weighs, Azure," I answer him, my voice sounding surprisingly stable.

"Tinny, it's not funny. How much do you weigh?"

"What are you planning? To carry me?"

"If I have to, yeah. Maybe the shock from the damage to your legs is causing temporary paralysis. Your body's way of dealing with the pain from your legs is to block it temporarily—"

He's grasping at straws and we both know it. He's clinging to the slightest chance that this could somehow turn out okay in the end, even though that became impossible the minute that his name was pulled from the reaping bowl. We both knew that ultimately only one of us was going to be coming out of this, we just never wanted to stop and think about it.

"Azure…that's not how it works, and you know it—"

"Tinny, please!" His voice cracks as he begs me to give him hope. Just let me have this, he's telling me with his eyes. Please, just let me have this little bit of hope.

It's strange. In the beginning, Azure and I started training together because we were both strong enough to be a challenge for each other and because neither of us had any attachments. We didn't like each other, but we didn't dislike each other, either. But as we trained together, we learned each other's strengths and weaknesses, likes and dislikes. We pushed each other to improve.

When we started sleeping together, it was a good way to blow off steam. It happens more often than you would imagine, and not just with opposite sex partners like Azure and me. When you're rolling around on a mat with someone for six or seven hours a day, stuff happens. You start to know them better than you know your own family, and sometimes better than you know yourself. But at that point, we didn't think it would matter. We never imagined that we would be in the same Games together.

And even knowing him as I do—Biblically and all—I never thought that I would see him begging like this.

I reach up and touch his face. His skin is rough with stubble, but I like the way it tickles my fingers. It's good to just _feel _it. Despite the tension of the moment—or maybe because of it—I laugh. It's painful as hell, but I do it anyway.

"You have stubble. You have stubble! Shouldn't you have a beard?"

He's caught off guard by the question, the same way I was when he asked me my weight. But he still answers me.

"I've been shaving with my knife," he says.

"Really? I didn't know that you knew how to do that…"

He looks so tired in this moment, and I wonder if I look the same way. The pain in my stomach is getting worse, Hadrian's moaning is getting louder, and I remember what I have to do. I force myself to focus on the goal. Now is not the time to get sidetracked with sentiment.

"Other's will have heard the noise. You need to get moving," I say as loudly as possible. I see Ahlyce nod in agreement with me.

"We need to get moving," he corrects me.

"Azure, I have to stay. You know that. I can't feel my legs, which means that I can't use my legs. I'm dead weight."

"She's right," Ahlyce says gruffly. Azure responds by picking up the biggest rock that he can throw and hurling it at her head. It misses.

"I'll carry you," he answers plainly.

"And what happens when you need to fight? What happens when they send mutts after you? I'll slow you down, and you know it."

My tone is pleading now, too. I have to make him understand that as much as I want to go with him—and I do; God, I've never wanted anything more in my life—I can't. I have to make him understand that this is it; this is all we're going to get. He has to understand that he's got to go on without me.

"Unstoppable," he whispers. "You were unstoppable."

"Not anymore. Now that's you. You've got to be unstoppable."

"If you hadn't pushed me out the way—"

I put my hand over his mouth to silence him. "Stop that. I made my choices. There's no sense in crying over spilled blood. Now, I need you to focus on some business stuff for me. I need you—all of you—to get any of the weapons that you can't use or take with you and bring them here."

Esther looks confused when she hears my request. I think she was expecting something a little more poignant; maybe asking him to give a letter to my mom and dad for me or something. Maybe some final requests about who should get my stuff at home or whatever. She clearly wasn't expecting me to ask about weapons.

"Why do you need the weapons?" she asks.

"Anything that's on my body when I di—when they take me leaves the arena with me. It means that if you can't use it, no one else can come along and find it, either. No one else can use it against you."

She nods in understanding but doesn't say anything. Instead, she studies me for a minute with her sad eyes and then begins to acquiesce to my request. Ahlyce follows suit, and eventually Azure does too. They bring me the weapons that are either too big to be carried long distances or the ones that are too odd for them to know how to use. To their credit, they know their strengths. They take what they know.

"Is that everything?" I ask as they set some of the weapons down beside me. They nod, and the two girls step back, giving Azure and I another moment alone.

"Tinny, you don't have to do this. I can carry you—"

"You know why you can't. I'm paralyzed, okay? I can't feel anything. I won't be able to feel when I need to use the bathroom. Are you going to clean up after me? Please don't make me do that. Let me have some dignity," I beg. Ironic, to be begging for dignity.

Finally, he nods. As he does, I'm fighting to keep the tears back. It would be one thing if they were tears of pain, but they're not. They're the tears that would tell him that I'm sad and scared and feeling like a little kid in a world that's too big for her. I can't let him know that. He has to know that everything is going to be okay. I have to make him believe that, even if it isn't true.

"Is there anything else you need?" he whispers.

"No. Take everything you need."

As soon as the words pass my lips, he pulls me roughly onto his lap. I fight to keep from screaming as the stabbing in my stomach returns full force. His arms are gentle around me as he holds me close to him. I can feel his heart pounding beneath my cheek as he presses my face to his chest. He pulls his knife out of his boot.

"What are you do—"

"I'm taking everything I need." With a quick movement, he pulls the blade of the knife across a lock of my hair, cutting it off. He tucks that lock into the breast pocket of his shirt and puts away the knife. I feel him start to reluctantly pull away when I remember what was so important to tell him.

"Wait! I have to tell you something." He freezes, and I think he's grateful for another minute. "The pattern. The keys. You know how we were wondering why none of us had gotten sponsor gifts yet?" He nods. "I figured out the pattern. You have to have made at least one kill to get sponsor gifts."

"But you and I have both made kills."

"I know. It wasn't until now that it all made sense. It's not enough to make a kill. Your district partner has to be dead. Hadrian got a gift after his killed Lily, and after Skylar died."

"He got a gift?"

"It came while he was sleeping. I stole it," I explain with a sad smile. "After I'm out of the picture, you should start getting gifts."

"Tinny…I—"

"No, listen. You've got everything you need to win. You've got supplies, you've got your training, and now you know one more piece of the puzzle. You can do this. I need you win this, okay? I need to know that you're going to take care of yourself. I need to know that you're not going to let my death bother you."

"But you're…you're inside of me—"

I cut him off, desperate to lighten the mood before I start to sob. "No, I'm fairly certain that _you _were inside of _me._"

He smiles half-heartedly and taps his chest. "I'm serious. We've been together for so long, you're in here. How do not let this bother me?"

"You do what you have to do. You dig in there deep, and you cut me out if that's what you have to do. But I need to know that you'll be okay."

"I will."

"Okay, then."

He stands up and begins to walk away, and I feel all the words that I want to say burning at my lips, begging to be spoken. But those are the words I can't say. I can't tell him everything that I want to tell him. It's too much of a burden for him, especially if the feelings aren't returned. I won't have him carrying that burden; not when he's already carrying the idea of thinking that my death will be his fault.

But try as I might, I can't stop all of the words.

"Azure?" I sound so scared when I speak.

He turns back around, the faintest trace of hope in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Can I have one for the road?"

"Of course."

And then he's at my side again, kissing me like there's no tomorrow. And I guess that's true. He'll have a tomorrow, but I won't. So everything that I can't say—all of those words that would be a burden to him—I pour into what is going to be our last kiss. I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer because no matter how close he is, I just can't get enough. I force good-bye and I'm sorry into that kiss, and I think he gets it.

He lingers for another minute before pushing something into my hand and rising to walk away. I glance down and find my rosary in my palm. Yeah, I know, I probably gave the parish priest a heart attack with my antics in these Games, but that's life.

"Tinny?" he says as he's walk away.

"Yeah?"

"Are you scared?" he asks. I shake my head, but he can see the lie written all over my face. "Don't be. If anyone deserves a place in Heaven, it's you."

I nod. "I lo—" I start, but stop myself before the words come out and ruin me.

"What?" he asks.

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah, me too."

And then he's gone. With Ahlyce and Esther, who still has Hadrian slung over her shoulder. Only after they're out of sight do I let the tears slide down my cheeks. I'm watching him walk away for the last time, and it hurts. When this all started, this thing with Azure, I didn't realize it would hurt this much. But I'm victorious. I got him to go, to leave me, so that I can live.

"I love you."

It's like being nine years old at the top of that climbing wall again.

I let the tears flow as I reach for the first weapon they left me: a thick, heavy broadsword. It will be the first instrument in the show that I put on for the Capitol. In the event that mine and Azure's parting isn't enough entertainment for them, this should be. The longer I can draw out my own death, the more of a spectacle that I make of it, the longer the people are entertained. The longer the Capitol is entertained, the longer that Azure can go without them unleashing unholy havoc on him. So I resolve to make this the greatest show on Earth; it'll be a spectacular show the likes of which none of them have ever seen.

With a firm hand, I take the broadsword and raise it. In a swift motion, I sink it deep into my left thigh, severing all sorts of important muscles. It bleeds, but I'm not all that worried. I intentionally missed the femoral artery, so I'll have plenty of time for my show. With the assortment of weapons that they left me, I have enough to keep the Capitol entertained for quite some time.

So come one, come all. Welcome to the greatest show on Earth. With any luck, it will last for many hours to come.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm really sorry for the delay. I've had this chapter in mind for a while now and I wanted to try to get it just right. Hopefully I did. If not, let me know. If I did get it right...still let me know. Feedback is a writer's best friend. **

**And for our question: Now that you've seen more of the tributes, how have your impressions of them changed? Were there any that you liked but now dislike? Or maybe used to dislike but now like? **


	30. Day Twelve: Being Interesting

**Cordelia "Cori" Harlow, 16, District 9**

I've never slept with a boy before. My family has always been wealthy enough that I've never had to share a room with my brother—or anyone, for that matter. Well, except for when Molly spends the night. But sleeping in my bed with Molly is a completely different animal from the situation I find myself in now. And in my defense, this is a very different situation than I was in when I fell asleep.

See, after all the cannons and explosions in the wee hours of the morning—always a good time for explosions; I mean, we weren't trying to sleep or anything—we decided to move again. After finding a good resting place—and by good resting place, I mean a strategic ledge a good ten feet up off the canyon floor that's wide enough for no one to see us from below—we stopped to make our camp. And by "make our camp," I mean that we put down the one pack that we had and sat there, too exhausted to do anything else for a long time. I'm not sure how long we sat there, but I am sure of one thing: Cadogan didn't let go of my hand the whole time.

While we munched on our meager rations of roots and plants that he found us, Cadogan held my hand. While I stared at the night sky and waited to see whose face would appear tonight—especially after all the chaos this morning—Cadogan held my hand. When I cringed at seeing Monty's face in the sky because seeing him reminded me too much of little Brie, he held my hand.

"That means there's only eight of us left. Eight," I had whispered.

"That puts us closer to being home. Just a little closer to being home," Cadogan had answered, looking into the empty night sky.

We hadn't bothered to set up a watch before we lay ourselves down to go to sleep, mostly because our hiding place was too well hidden—in plain sight—for me to worry about it. And I think some of it was because we were too tired and too weary to sit though another night alone. After a while, the silence starts to eat away at you if you're alone with it for too long.

So instead of setting up a watch, we laid down flat on our backs and stared up at the stars, our hands still firmly intertwined. The night sky was dark and the stars shone brightly. I don't know anything about constellations or stars—Dad never bothered to teach me because he said that the Gamemakers could just change them—but Cadogan does.

"That's the Big Dipper, see?" Cadogan had told me, pointing at a grouping of six stars. "And that looks like Orion."

"Now that you point it out to me, yeah. I wouldn't see it if you didn't point it out to me," I had answered.

"It takes some practice. You'll get the hang of it."

The words had hung in the air between us, and I don't comment on them. I was trying not to think about how we're not going to get that much more time for me to get the hang of it. We've already been in the arena longer than I remember any other group that has come before us, and it's probably because this is a Quarter Quell and they want to draw it out and make it special. Special. Ha.

And then, in that moment, laying under the stars with Cadogan, I realized how very tired I was, how tired I still am. Yes, there have been some times when I'm with Cadogan that things don't seem so bad, but there always seems to be that one moment that comes back around and reminds me of it all over again. I'm bone-tired; I've spent the past two weeks doing things that no person—no kid—my age should be doing. I shouldn't have to take care of other people; I shouldn't be organizing watches or making sure that everyone has enough to eat; I shouldn't be standing guard with my weapons at the ready. It's not how things are supposed to be done, and it's so _tiring. _

"I'm so tired, Cadogan," I found myself whispering before I could stop myself.

"I know. Go to sleep, okay? I'll keep watch," he had answered, squeezing my hand. His large hands are warm and comforting around mine.

"You're as tired as I am. We're hidden well enough for both of us to sleep."

And so we did. Last night, we fell asleep under the stars, laying a foot apart with only our hands touching.

Now, waking up the morning after, I am finding myself in an entirely different situation.

The woman who runs the orphanage back home always used to tell the unmarried couples to "leave enough room for Jesus" whenever she thought they were getting too close. Let's just say that right now, there isn't enough room for a sheet of paper, never mind Jesus.

Sometime during the night, we moved toward each other and are now all over each other. Cadogan is laying on his side, one arm under my head and the other draped over my waist. My side is pressed up against his front, my head pressed against his shoulder; I can feel his warm breath on my forehead, and it makes my stomach flip-flop. Despite the fact that it's a cold desert morning, there's heat rushing through my body.

I don't wake him up immediately because it's been a long time since either of us has slept this well, and I'm not going to ruin it for him. We've got to take sleep whenever and wherever we can get it.

Also, more selfishly, this moment gives me a chance to study him; I mean _really _study him. His skin was lightly tanned when he first came into the arena, but it has darkened to more of a golden tan. Brown hair with gold highlights—also thanks to the sun—is in a mop all over his head; I imagine that it really would be quite attractive if it were brushed. The sun is casting soft shadows on his angular face and in the morning light, he looks beautiful.

I mean handsome.

His body is long and lean, and I'm becoming more keenly aware of this now that he's pressed _very _close to me. He isn't overly muscular, but he's toned. I know this because nearly every one of those muscles is wrapping around me and warming me.

I don't know how much later it is when his eyes start to flutter open. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and takes a minute to assess the situation. He seems more surprised about it than I was, and I was pretty surprised.

"We didn't fall asleep like this," he whispers, though he doesn't move.

"No, no we didn't," I answer quietly, also not moving. "But I slept well. Did you?"

He seems taken aback by the question for a minute. "Yes! I slept very…well."

"You sound unsure about that," I say, a little confused by his response.

"No! N-no, I'm not…unsure. I just—was that a trick question?"

"Trick question? No."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh. Okay. I just…we didn't fall asleep like this, and I didn't have your permission to hold you and I didn't want to offend your virtue or anything because I think you're really wonderful—"

I put my hand over his mouth and silence him before he can say anymore. It's completely adorable that we're in the middle of a gladiator arena trying to avoid near-certain death, and he's worried about offending me because he didn't ask permission before he held me. He's being chivalrous and it makes me realize that there are thousands of girls in the world who aren't in the Hunger Games and will never experience this. They might live without the horror of the Games, but they will never know what it is to have a chivalrous guy worry about offending her virtue.

"Cadogan, you didn't offend me. How could I ever be offended by a guy who worries about offending me? Besides, I'm pretty sure that we kind of inched together in our sleep."

I can feel his lips shift into a grin under my hand. Then that grin changes, and he's kissing my palm. My hand lingers on his face before I finally pull it away.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks quietly.

I nod, and then he's pulling me closer to him—even though I didn't think this was possible—and kissing me. Fire burns bright and warm and _good _in my belly and my body keeps telling me that the only thing to do about that is to be closer to him. Before I know it, my hands are on his hips, sliding up to his shoulders, pulling at him.

Then, realization washes over me like a wave of frigid water and I freeze. Cadogan feels me tense up under his hands and pulls away, his breathing heavy. It takes me a minute to realize that mine is equally as ragged.

"Everyone can see this right now. Like, everyone in Panem," I whisper.

His face pales as he realizes that I'm right. What should be one of the most private experiences of my life has been witnessed by the entirety of Panem. Not just my first kiss, but also the first time that I slept with a boy—not in a sex way, but just in an actual sleeping way. It doesn't seem fair.

"You're right."

And then our surroundings seem to become so much more interesting. We're looking at everything but each other—the sky, the ledge we're sitting on, the ground below—like two awkward kids who've been caught doing something that we're not supposed to be doing.

"We should find some water. We're running low on water," Cadogan says abruptly.

He's giving me an out, so I grab it with both hands and hold on tight. "Yes! Water! We're running low on water, which is why we should get some…water. We should get more water."

I take the pack first and we climb down from the ledge and being to trek back to the last place where we passed water. At the pace we're going, it could take us well into the afternoon to get there—and Cadogan says that based on where the sun is in the sky, it's probably nearly noon anyway—so we're going to have to make camp there. It isn't my favorite plan, but it'll have to do.

We walk in silence, taking extra care not to touch each other, which make the venture even more awkward. I remember the way that Satin and Azure—the pair from District One—were so open about the fact that they were having…relations, and wonder how they can be so glib about the whole thing. That's the whole world knowing your business, everyone seeing everything that you put out there. Part of me wishes that I were more like them—they didn't seem to let anything bother them—and it would be nice to have that degree of freedom.

After we've been walking for what seems like forever, we stop in a spot of scarce shade and rest for a moment. It's hot and sweat is dripping down my body in places that I didn't know I could sweat. I would kill for a shower right now, but it's not going to happen.

"I haven't sweated this much since the last harvest," Cadogan says quietly, finally unable to stand the silence.

"I've never been in a harvest, but I haven't sweated like this in…not since my dad made me run my first mile. That's years."

"Years? That's…that's bad."

"He was just trying to make sure that I knew how to—" Then I look up and realize what Cadogan was talking about.

Coming down the canyon towards us are two very large, very nasty-looking lizard creatures. They're big—bigger than any creature that I've ever seen—and they're thundering towards us on all four legs. Their scales look more like raised bumps on their thick bodies; their heads are black, but farter down their bodies the solid black is intermixed with a pattern of orange. From this distance, they look awkward and heavy, but they're moving fast enough for me to be worried. That is, very fast.

"That's bad," I gasp. "Run!"

I grab Cadogan's hand and our pack from off the ground and take off running, pulling him along behind me. His breath was already coming in harsh, ragged pants and the sudden movement only makes it worse, but he keeps going. Despite that, the lizards are still getting closer and closer. I can hear them hissing and notice for the first time that they have long, nasty claws on their feet. Fantastic.

"C'mon Cadogan, you've got to push it just a little bit harder. We can do this," I encourage him.

His face is red with exertion and he's gasping in a way that is dangerous. "Can't…go any…more…"

I grab his hand tighter and continue to drag him along behind me, trying not to glance back at the monsters that are in hot pursuit of us. "You can! C'mon! Don't give up on me!"

"No…go with…without me…"

His run has slowed to barely a jog and he can't stand up straight. I'm losing him.

"Cadogan! We didn't survive this long just to give up! Think about your family at home! They're counting on you to come home; they _need _you. You have to keep going!"

I can see a faint spark of determination in his eyes and he gets moving again, but it's still too slow. It isn't that he doesn't want to keep on, because I know that he does, but his body just physically can't take it anymore. He's pushed his body too far and burned energy that he doesn't have. His body is quitting on him.

There's a fork in the canyon up ahead, and we take it. I'm sure the Gamemakers are going to send the nasty lizards after us, but maybe it will buy us a little bit of time for me to come up with another weapon. We still have Asher's knives, but a couple of little pig stickers aren't going to do anything against two giant lizard mutts.

Cadogan finally slips to the ground, his face white as a sheet. I can tell by the look on his face that he knows we're in trouble. He's thinking, though I'm not sure that he could talk even if he knew of something for us to do. I grab the largest and heaviest rocks I can find, preparing myself for the battle to come.

"Keys!" he sputters, forcing the words past his lips. "Keys to surviving!"

"Like the blood?"

He nods his head as the first lizard rounds the corner, the second one close behind. I throw my first rock and hit the nasty creature—that has breath that well and truly _reeks_—in the eye. It roars in anger and annoyance and keeps on coming.

"Blood isn't going to work! They want blood!"

"Thinking…"

"Think faster!" I yell over the hiss of the lizard as I continue to pelt it with rocks. I need a better vantage point, but there are no nearby ledges or outcroppings for me to use. Not to mention the fact that I could never get Cadogan onto a ledge right now, not with the shape he's in.

"Kiss me!" he finally gasps.

"Kiss you?" The lizard is right on top of me, swiping at me with it's sharp front claws. I somersault under the claw and come up underneath it, sinking one of Asher's knives between the scales of his belly and into soft flesh. Behind me, Cadogan screams.

The lizard is foaming at the mouth—clearly I must have it something important—but it's giant front claws have scraped across Cadogan's chest and blood is flowing freely. I scramble from beneath the lizard as it collapses and it's partner comes up to do battle.

"Kiss me…now!"

It seems stupid, but I have to trust that my ally and…whatever he is to me knows what he's talking about. I run to where he's sitting, fall to his side, and kiss him. The kiss is different from ours this morning. This morning, it was slower and gentle; now, there's a fierceness in our kiss, and Cadogan is totally in charge. He's deepening the kiss, jerking me closer, and running his hands all over my body. His hands are shaking as he works at the buttons at the front of my shirt, so I pull away quickly and jerk the shirt over my head.

"Mine…too…"

There's not really much left to Cadogan's shirt, but I pull it off too and then we're kissing again. I'm on his lap, all in his space, with my hands roaming in places where no unmarried woman should have her hands. One of Cadogan's hands is on my belly, rubbing circles; the other is tangled in my hair.

Abruptly, he stops, his hands lingering on my hips, his gaze fixed on something over my shoulder. I turn quickly and notice that he's staring at the second lizard, which has turned away from us and is lumbering towards a new opening in the walls of the canyon.

"It's leaving us alone," I whisper. Wow, such intelligence.

Cadogan leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers. "When we stopped being romantic, we stopped being interesting. When we stopped being interesting, they sent the mutts. They took the mutt away when we went back to being interesting. It's one of the keys of surviving. Be interesting. Now smile like I've just said something incredibly sweet and charming."

I don't know how I manage it, but I do. I smile and kiss him gently on the cheek. "You are sweet and charming," I tell him. It's the truth. "Now, let's see if you can stay that way while I patch you up."

To his credit, he does. I take his shredded and bloody shirt and tear it into strips to tie around his chest. I wish Ahlyce were here to stitch him up, but then I remember the way that she betrayed us and it makes me want to hang her up by her nostrils and beat her until she drops. Traitor.

"We can't stay here," Cadogan says when I finish getting him cleaned up the best that I can. "We've got to find water."

"I know. I don't know where we are anymore, though."

"Well, then we'll walk until we find some." He rises to his feet.

"You need rest—"

"Water first. Then rest."

He takes my hand in his, and then we're off. It's a slower pace than we set last time, and we're headed in new and uncharted territory, but at least we're together. These moments of walking quietly together are infinitely more comfortable than walking in horrible silence. We continued on this way until we turn a corner.

"Come any closer and I'll blow your damn head off," a voice says venomously.

Sitting in front of us, propped up on some rocks and surrounded by the most disgusting mess I've ever seen is Satin. Around her are the ruins of what must have been the Career camp. Large chunks of the canyon wall are missing, blood is splattered on several of the walls, and the air still smells burnt. It's only after I take a closer look at the girl from District 1 that I notice the gun in her hand and the weapons sticking out of her legs like needles in a pincushion.

"Satin? What happened?" Cadogan asks, not listening to her order.

"Riden happened. The son of a bitch put together some explosives and blew us all to hell early yesterday morning."

"You've been like this since yesterday morning?" Cadogan can't keep the horror out of his voice. From what I can see, she's got a broadsword, several heavy daggers, a machete, and an axe protruding from her legs. The dried blood on them tells me that they've been there for a while.

"I can still shoot you, so I suggest that you get the hell out of here," she says again, shaking the gun at us again. I notice with horror that there are still several weapons on the ground beside her.

"The attack. Is that what killed Monty and Aim?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah. Ahlyce shot Monty and Aim got blown to pieces. Literally."

Her hand with the gun in it is shaking and I notice the faintpinging sound of metal on metal. There's also a small rosary in her gun hand.

"You're scared," I say without thinking about how that could potentially push her over the edge.

She takes a deep breath and nods her head. "But if you see Azure and he isn't trying to kill you…don't tell him. Please don't tell him how bad this is, and please don't tell him that I'm scared."

"I won't." Of course, I mostly won't because if I do, he's going to go absolutely insane and try to kill me even more brutally than usual. "What happened to you legs?"

"Rock fell on me during the explosions. It must have damaged my spinal cord, because I'm paralyzed. This is me, punishing my legs for being weak," she answered, her voice trembling. "But if you come any closer or try to take these weapons from me, I'll shoot you."

"We won't," Cadogan says before I can say anything.

"Good. There's water four hundred yards that way." She points farther down the canyon. "Enjoy the time that you have together. It might not be much, but make the best of it. Take what pleasure you can in each other."

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Cori? It is Cori, right?" she calls after me.

"Yeah?"

"Will you say a prayer for me?"

"Yeah, I will. I promise."

And then we're walking towards the water, and away from the bloody mess. Cadogan's grip on my hand is tighter than usual, and I can tell that seeing Satin like that has really shaken him up. Thankfully, we reach the waterhole with not problems and quickly sacrifice a little fingerprick and a piece of hair to get some clean water.

We rest in the shade and chat for the rest of the afternoon. Just as the sun disappears below the horizon, a cannon fires somewhere and I wonder who it's for. True to my word, I offer up a quick prayer for Satin. I don't know if she deserves it, but I figure that I can't judge her. If I were alone and scared and in pain, I would want someone to do the same for me.

"Do you think that was for Satin?" Cadogan asks.

"I don't know. I hope so. She was so scared…I don't know if we should have left her like that."

"We did the right thing." He sounds so sure of himself, far more sure than I feel.

"How can you know that?"

He takes a deep breath and sighs, bracing himself for what he's about to tell me. "I used to believe in God and fate, that everything happens for a reason. And then I watched my parents get beaten to death. What kind of God lets that happen? I mean, I guess that maybe he does exist, but if he does…I think he created the world and then left it here to run itself out like a pocket watch that doesn't get wound. But I know that all I have control over is me; I am the choices that I make, and I wouldn't want anyone to take that away from me. So why would I take it from Satin? If she wants to die that way, that's her decision."

Before I can say anything, the Capitol anthem begins to play and Satin's picture shows in the sky. She's the only one tonight, and as terrible as it sounds, all I can think about it how close it came to being me and Cadogan up there with her. After the music fades, we resume our conversation.

"Well, if there's a heaven, I hope she's there. She was so scared, Cadogan."

"Anywhere's got to be better than here. And if you don't believe in heaven, what do you believe in?"

I smile as I think about it for a minute. "Love. All this other stuff happens to us, and you just have to say "Stuff happens," and let it go. But when love happens, it's forever. I don't just mean the romantic stuff, but friendship and family, too. Once you love someone, they're a part of you. You have a piece of them in your heart and you in theirs. So right now, there's a little piece of Satin in this arena somewhere because Azure is still alive, and she'll live on in him."

"You think they loved each other?"

"I can't be sure, but…from the way she talked about him, and the way that she knew he would be upset if he knew she was scared…I would say that they did. The only time I ever saw him actually smile was during training when she whispered something in his ear. So I think so, yeah," I answer, leaning my head on Cadogan's shoulder and trying to take care with his wounded chest.

We sit there like that for a long time, just comfortable with each other's presence. We're enjoying the little things. After a while Cadogan breaks the silence.

"Do you remember when you told me that you used to want something that was just yours? You were tired of being compared to your dad and you just wanted something that was yours?" he asks me.

Yes, I remember. How very clearly I remember him answering back that he, too, wanted something that was just his.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I could be that."

"What?" His words take me by surprise.

"I could be yours. I am yours, and only yours."

Tears fill my eyes as I realize what he's saying and I feel something in my chest—something tight and somehow good at the same time. I feel the way that the responding words are trying to force their way out of me, and the way that I don't want to stop them.

"Me too," I finally manage. "Me too."

When we fall asleep, it isn't with a foot of space between us. After the words we've exchanged that foot might as well be a mile. When we fall asleep, there's no room for anything between us—not Jesus, not a sheet of paper, not the Capitol or the rest of the arena.

For now, it's just us.

* * *

**Author's note: I'm so so so sorry that I've made y'all wait forever and a day for this update. I got blocked a little bit because I wanted to get this chapter right, especially after the positive feedback that I got from the last chapter. Thank you to everyone for their feedback and support. Y'all are super-amazingly-fantabulous and I'm very grateful for y'all.**

**Since I got a request for a list of the remaining tributes, I shall now list them. They are: Azure Kersting (D1), Esther Vesnina (D2), Riden Snowe (D3), Hadrian Helm (D4), Ahlyce Pham (D8), Cori Harlow (D9), Cadogan Sopheap (D11). Also, I'm going to post a poll for who you want to win on my profile, so go vote!  
**

**And finally, for the chapter question: Of all the tributes that entered the Games, who do you think most deserved to win?  
**


	31. Day Thirteen: Tense Conversations

**Ahlyce Pham, age 15, District 8**

You'd think that after being in this godforsaken arena for as long as I have that I'd be getting used to people screaming, but I'm not. Well, I guess I should say that at first it was annoying—after all, it's not like we all had time to make peace with the fact that we're gonna die bloody—and then it was horrifying. The way that Aim was moaning and groaning and trying to hold himself together…it was too much. Just too damn much. But Hadrian's been without his feet for a good day now, and he's still carrying on with his moaning and groaning, and it's become annoying again. If it weren't for Esther—who seems to be the only one with a decent, non-homicidal head on her shoulders—he'd be dead already. As it is, I don't think Azure is going to put up with it much longer.

"It hurts," Hadrian whimpered, clutching at Esther's calf as they sit leaning against a boulder while we rest. She's been carrying him since the explosions tore off his feet. "Please, it hurts so much…"

Esther runs her fingers through his hair, doing the best she can to soothe him. I don't know where she gets her patience, but I almost wish she would lose it so that we could just kill him already and not have to deal with the moaning and groaning. Really, he acts like he's the only one to ever get hurt.

"I know it does," Esther whispers back. "But you've got to hang in there. We're doing the best we can, okay?"

I hate it when she does that. When she puts on that damn voice; you know, the one that says, "everything is going to be alright." I hate it because everything isn't going to be alright. That kid is going to die soon—and probably very soon if he doesn't shut his mouth. Esther has to know that; she has to know that she can't save them all. Hell, she'll be lucky if she can save herself with the way she's been trying to take care of everyone.

"Everything's not gonna be okay," I finally say, unable to bite my tongue nay longer. "By the time this whole damn thing's over, he's probably gonna be dead. How can you sit here and tell him that it's gonna be okay?"

Esther doesn't answer; instead, she just sits there and holds him in her arms, giving me that kicked-puppy look. I don't understand what's going on in her damn head, but whatever it is, I'm about three seconds from replacing it with an arrow. Seems like that would be a lot more convenient. Azure—who is sitting off to the side, flipping a knife in his hand—doesn't seem like he'd be too broken up about it if I did.

Then again, he's probably sitting over there thinking the same thing about me. At this point, I'm bar far the biggest threat that he's facing in this group. Hadrian is too busy weeping and begging to make the pain stop while clutching to that ridiculous, over-grown pointy fork, while Esther is too busy to trying to coddle everyone to worry about actually killing someone. Azure would be an idiot—well, more of an idiot than he already is—not to realize this, which means that he's not taking a watch on own, and if he is, I don't sleep during it.

I have to admit, as far as the Careers go, this is a disappointing bunch. Back in D8, we hear horror stories from our parents about Careers that have worn ear necklaces or Careers that have cut out the hearts of their living victims. This is the group that we're taught to fear, like the monsters that live in our closets or some shit like that. Instead, they're too busy sitting around on their asses, talking about their feelings to do anything noteworthy.

"How long are we gonna sit here?" I ask Azure, since he seems to be the only one who actually knows how to make a decision.

"Until I tell you we're gonna move," he answers shortly. "And until I tell you that we're moving, you're gonna sit where you are and keep your damn mouth shut."

"Keep my damn mouth shut? I'm the only one who's saying anything that makes any sense! You're sitting here, running away with your tail tucked between your legs when we should be going after Riden!"

My voice is getting louder and louder, the pitch rising. I sound hysterical, and I shouldn't; _I'm _the one who is making sense. _I'm _the one who is right here. _I'm _the one who knows what we need to do to win. So why are they staring at me like something is wrong?

It's because they're jealous, I realize. They see that I know how to function here, in the arena, and they don't. They don't know how they're supposed to act now, and I do, and now they're wishing that they were me. That has to be it.

It's weird…when I first came, they weren't even paying attention to me. They brushed me off as a girl from District 8 that was probably going to get killed in the bloodbath. I would bet my life on the fact that most of them didn't even know my name; hell, maybe some of them still don't. But that was then. Now, they're realizing that they were wrong. They understand that I'm one of the better ones—_the _best one—and they all missed their time. They're sitting around feeling bad about themselves, and I'm standing tall and ready to move on.

Azure stands and looks at me—I mean, _really _looks at me. He's quiet for a long time, and I'm not really sure what to expect. I reach for my bow, just in case he decides to attack, but he just chuckles and sits back down. My hands fly immediately to my face, just to make sure there's nothing there. There isn't, but it doesn't stop me from double-checking every five minutes. I try to talk myself out of it by remembering that he hasn't been the same since he left Satin behind, and he's only gotten worse since seeing her face in the sky last night.

After several long minutes, Azure speaks to all of us.

"Ahlyce is right. Riden is the biggest threat we've got left. He knows how to make explosives, which gives him the advantage of a distance attack. He doesn't have to be accurate as long as the explosives actually go off, because the blast will take care of anything that's in the general area. If we find Riden and take him out, we'll be in better position for the final six. Any questions?"

His voice tells us that he doesn't really care if we have any questions. Of course, I think he probably has never given a damn about what anyone thought. Except maybe Satin. Last night, while I was sitting awake during his watch so that he wouldn't fucking scalp me while I slept, I swear I could hear him weeping. It took everything in me not to laugh at him.

I know that I shouldn't laugh—I've been there, I've known loss—but to think that he's crying over some girl that he's been sleeping with for the past two weeks and is trying to sell it off as love…that's funny. To think that he could know anything about what it feels like to lose someone when that's the only experience he has…it's laughable. I lost my mom. I lost my dad. I lost my aunt and uncle and everyone that should have been there to take care of me.

I didn't just lose a family. I lost my goddamn childhood.

"That sounds like a good plan, Azure," Esther answers. "I'll start getting something together to eat, and then we can move out."

He nods shortly and starts to sharpen his knife. Hadrian has passed out—thanks to be whatever god exists—and is lying quietly to the side of our camp. I decide that it's probably better to help Esther with the food; at least that way, I'll know that she isn't trying to poison me. She doesn't seem the type, but I can't be too careful. I'm too close to fail now, not when I've got others depending on me at home.

I can't help but wonder if Briyana is at home watching. If I know her, she's probably glue to the screen every waking minute that she's not at work, too scared that she's going to miss me not to watch, and too horrified by the sights to look away. Before I can get out of this damn hellhole, I'll be part of what makes her completely horrified. I'll kill them all without batting an eyelash, and Briyana will be sitting at home watching the whole thing. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Will I give her nightmares?

"Ahlyce? Ahlyce?"

Esther's calling my name. "What?" I snap.

"Can you hand me the broth please?"

I reach into her pack and pull out the broth that she had brought along from our old camp. She pours it into a bowl and starts to build a small fi—She starts trying to build a small fir—Sparks fly as she bangs two of the flint stones together, hoping that they'll catch some of the dried plant parts ablaz—

"I-I'm going to t-talk to Azure." I say abruptly, trying to get away from the sparks. Sparks never stay sparks. They never stay small and they never stay contained, and they always take someone with them. They always get big and they always take the persons who is the closest and I know damn well that I'm not going to be the closest because I'm not going to scream like that and I'm not going to be the one who—

"Ahlyce? Are you alright?" Esther's quiet voice cuts through my thoughts. They're still racing too fast, too fast as I think about the sparks that get bigger and bigger, but at least I've got something else to think about.

"I'm fine. I'm going to work on my bow," I answer, slouching away from where Esther is cooking. In the corner of our makeshift camp, there's a boulder where I can sit and watch the rest of camp. I can keep an eye on Azure while he pretends to mourn for his whore and also watch Esther as she makes dinner. Worrying about Hadrian would be a waste of time and energy, so I don't.

"Food time!" Esther calls. She has spooned the broth into several different pots, and took two of them—one for herself and one for Hadrian. Sitting over on the side of the camp, Esther holds Hadrian's head on her lap and patiently ladles broth into his mouth. It's a damn waste of perfectly good broth if you ask me, but as usual, no one does. Azure just looks at her, but doesn't say anything.

"There you go," she whispers. "You need to keep your strength up."

"Strength? What does strength matter? _He doesn't have any feet! _ It's not like he can _do _anything!" I snap.

Esther's mouth tightens in a line, and I think for the first time sense I joined this alliance, she's pissed. Of course, Esther being pissed isn't anything—what's she going to do, kill me with kindness? Please.

"Ahlyce, a word please?" she says tightly.

"Sure," I say. I follow her away from the boys, and she stiffly turns on her heel, hands thrown on her hips as she stares at me.

"Your remarks are completely unnecessary," she spits. "That poor boy is in pain—serious _pain_—and somewhere at home, his family is watching this. His family is watching his suffering somewhere, and they're feeling completely helpless to do anything for him. He's here because he volunteered for his brother, which means that back at home, that little brother that he volunteered for is hating himself. He's watching his brother's pain and thinking that it's his fault. That family is going to sit at home and watch their son die, and they don't need your little commentary to make things worse. And Hadrian…he's alone, and he's scared. Yeah, he going to die, but he doesn't need you being terrorizing him about it along the way. So, I don't want to hear another word. Do you understand me?"

I stop for a moment, stunned. Tear well in her eyes as she speaks, as she makes her passionate plea for his life and for his family, and I can't help but wonder if that's what my family is doing back at home. Are they sitting at home and seeing the way that I struggle when Esther tries to light a fir—when she makes the sparks that could get bigger and bigger? Are they watching me here and blaming themselves? That's exactly the type of thing that Briyana would do, even though we both know that I'm far better equipped to be here than she is.

"Yeah, I got it." My answer is whispered, almost too stunned to speak. I hadn't expected that level of passion from someone who seems so damn nice all the time, and I definitely hadn't expected it to make me start thinking about the consequences of being in this shitty situation.

Esther finishes feeding Hadrian, and after we're done, Azure announces that it's time for us to move. I don't really think that he has any sort of plan to find Riden—or even if that's what we're doing—but we're moving, which is probably better than being sitting ducks. We follow him, Azure leading the way, with Esther carrying Hadrian in the middle, and me and my bow bringing up the rear.

As we navigate the narrow canyons, I can tell that someone's definitely been here. There's blood on the floors of the canyon, though I can't tell how long it's been there. There's also some sort of large animal track that I don't recognize.

"Azure!"

He turns to look at me, anger in his eyes. I'm not sure where the hell it's coming from, but I'd really prefer that he not look at him like that again.

"What?"

"Someone else has been here, and something too. It looks like an animal print, but I can't tell what it is. Whatever the hell it is, though, it's huge," I tell him, pointing at the track in the sand.

"Lizard…it's a lizard," Hadrian gasps from his place in Esther's arms.

"A lizard? In the desert?" Esther asks, crouching down so that Hadrian can see the print better.

"We have…water lizards in D4. Their feet are shaped kinda like that…"

"Well, that's one big lizard. I don't know how we'd kill it if we ran into it."

Azure clears his throat, as if His Royal Highness has to have our attention before he can be bothered to speak. "We'll just have to get bigger weapons, won't we?" he says, though his voice is harsh. The playful tone that he used to have when talking about torture and maiming and general gore is gone. It's a little unsettling, truthfully.

Azure follows the trail of blood, but it ends when we reach a small watering hole. Whoever was injured must have cleaned themselves up before they continued. Couldn't make anything easy for us, could they? No, where's the fun in that? After the watering hole, we keep walking, following our scarily silent leader who doesn't seem to want to stop.

In the distance, there's a loud, inhuman shrieking, and in the moment, all of us jump—even Azure. When I was first learning to hunt, I didn't always hit my target right the first time—yeah, I'll admit it, I used to make mistakes. One time, I hit a fox in the damn shoulder, which hurt it bad enough for it not to be able to go anywhere any time soon, but it wasn't bad enough to kill the poor bastard. That sound—that crying, shrieking sound—was similar to what he was doing. Somewhere, someone has either injured a mutt, or the Gamemakers just let one loose on us.

"Mutt," Azure says shortly, not really seeming too worried about it, really.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"We keep moving, and it won't catch us."

"Or we walk right into it, dumbass," I shoot back. He stares at me again, his eyes blazing with fury, and I quickly slip an arrow onto the string of my bow. I'll be damned if I'm going to let him kill me.

At the next waterhole we reach, Azure throws down his pack and slumps against a boulder, which is apparently his way of telling us that this is where we're going to stop and make camp for the night. How nice of him to ask us how we felt about it first.

"Tomorrow, I think we should go back to the watering hole and try to see if we can track whoever it was that was wounded. Wounded prey are easy prey," Esther says quietly. "They're probably hurting and wouldn't be able to go far."

"No." Azure doesn't even pretend to entertain the notion.

"Why not? That's far easier than wandering about aimlessly," Esther replies.

"We're not wandering aimlessly."

"Okay, then where are we going?" she asks.

"We're going after Riden."

"How can you be sure that wasn't Riden?"

"There were two sets of footsteps," he explains, like he's talking a really stupid little kid. "Riden would work alone."

Esther seems to realize that there's really no good way to argue with Azure. He's set on what he's going to do, and no one is going to change his mind. Maybe that's what we ought to let him do. We could let him go off on his own and do his whole "I'm going to pretend to be torn up because my fake girlfriend kicked it" act for the cameras. Then he and Riden can kill each other, and I'm sitting pretty. Yeah, actually…I like this plan. I like it a lot.

Esther sets about making dinner again, and I stay as far away from the fire as possible. Just seeing it makes my hands start shaking again, and brings to mind that awful smell that…I stay away from the fire and the cooking. As we sit around and eat again—jerky and broth this time—Esther tries to get a definite plan out of Azure.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?"

"I already told you. Riden's the plan," he answers shortly.

"Well, before we do that, maybe we could find some supplies to build a litter. That way we could all help carry Hadrian—"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Azure, I know you're upset about Satin, but—"

"Shut up about Tinny." He forces the words out, each of them cold as ice and full of hurt. Guy's a damn good actor, I'll admit. I'm not falling for it, though.

"I know you're upset about what happened to her, but she would want you to be careful, not go charging after this guy and get yourself killed—"

She's cut off by a sharp slap across the face that snaps her head sideways and into the boulder behind her.

"I told you to shut up about her! You didn't know her! You didn't spend every minute of the past four years training with her! You didn't know anything about her other than what she wanted you to know, and you certainly wouldn't know what she _wanted! _ So shut up about what she would have wanted. She's not here, now, so we can never know what she would have wanted!"

Before either one of us can stop him, he stands and grabs Hadrian by the hair, pulling him along the ground as the other kid shrieks in pain. Esther tries to pull him free of Azure's grip, but he hefts the other boy over his shoulder, and there's nothing she can do. I could take him out with a shot from my bow, but I figure it's probably better just to watch things play out.

He's circling the edge of the water hole, Esther shrieking at him to stop as she realizes what he's going to do. The words fall on deaf fucking ears, and Azure tosses Hadrian's limp but conscious body into the water. Immediately, there's the popping and sizzling of blistering flesh as screams of pain tear from the boy's throat. He's thrashing about in the water—clawing at the air, and then at his face, at his own skin—as if he can make the pain stop.

Blisters start forming and filling with blood and soon they're popping into the water, turning it from a dirty brown color to a crystal clear blue. Hadrian's once-cute face is now unrecognizable as it's covered in blood and gore. The only thing that anyone would be able to recognize is his mouth full of metal teeth. Beyond that, he looks like a melted mound of bloody flesh. His cannon fires.

"Satin didn't have anyone to carry her. She had to stay behind because she wouldn't let me carry her. If I can't carry her, you can't carry him," Azure says, his voice leaving no room for argument. Esther looks too stunned to try.

Finally, a satisfied smile spreads across Azure's face, and he takes a drink of the clear, blue water.

* * *

**Author's note: I know I've been a really, really bad author and haven't updated in too long. I'm sorry. School has killed my writing output. But I am soon to be out for the holidays, which means that have more time to write. Also, a big thanks to _Definitely_Not_A_Chipmunk _and_ ChattyKitKat _for lighting a fire under my butt. Thanks! Please review and let me know who you want to win!**

The remaining tributes are: Azure Kersting (D1), Esther Vesnina (D2), Riden Snowe (D3), Ahlyce Pham (D8), Cori Harlow (D9), and Cadogan Sopheap (D10). Who do you want to win? Let me know!


	32. Day Fourteen: Not Fair

**Riden Snowe, District 3, Age 17**

It is imperative that I get up and get moving; I know this. It is the foremost thought in my mind, and yet, I can't bring myself to get up and move. My plan for attacking the Careers did not go according to plan—not in all respects, anyway—and I'm left dealing with the consequences. I have no partner anymore, something that I'm not unhappy about. Losing Monty in the attack was part of the plan in the long run, and all the better that they took him out for me; he was huge, and I never could have physically taken him on.

Of course, I hadn't been planning to get shot in the leg. Had I thought about that happening, I would probably have reconsidered getting Monty killed. Yes, he could easily kill me in this condition—anyone could, if I'm being honest—but he seemed to have a gentle nature, and I doubt he would have tried anything. Anyway, it would have to be better than limping around everywhere.

Each time I sit down to rest, it gets harder and harder to get back up. I'm unsure if this is because of my blood loss or if it's just because I'm tired. Despite the fact that I'm well aware of who is waiting for me at home, I'm tired of being here. More than anything, I want to go back home—even if it means going back home to the same empty, lonely shack the least reputable area of my district. It would mean being home, somewhere that's familiar, where I know all the rules of the game. It would mean seeing Evie again.

Those thoughts should be helping me to drive onward, to get up off of the hard, sandy floor, but it only makes me want to stay here instead. My brain keeps trying to trick me into believing that maybe—just maybe—if I stay here long enough, I'll open my eyes and find that everyone else has killed each other and I'm the last man standing. Or sitting, as it were.

But I know better than that. Life doesn't work that way. If you want something in life, you have to go out and work for it; the Hunger Games are no different.

Last night, I saw Hadrian's face in the sky. After the damage done to him in my attack, I can't say that I'm surprised. That is one less Career that stands between me and my victory, and each time I see one of their faces in the sky, I cannot help but realize that my chances of survival have increased. Perhaps that is a crass way to think about things, but when it comes to survival, I hardly care.

I take a deep breath, trying to think through the steps that I need to take. My goal is clear: I want to win. I want to get out of this hot, dry, godforsaken place and back home to District 3, where we hardly ever see blue sky through the haze of smog. After this experience, I can honestly profess that I will not miss blue sky. Not after all of this.

If I am going to win, I have to take out the Careers; I know this. I don't know much of the other tributes that remain, but if they're still alive, they must have some kind of skills. No one survives this long without having some sort of skills. At this point, I cannot discount anyone.

Everyone is a threat.

My experience hasn't brought me into contact with any of the other nasty surprises that the Gamemakers may have in store—aside from the trick with the water—but I can't count them out. I know that they're going to pull something out of that utterly horrific playbook of theirs at some point—and potentially already have for some of the other tributes—but it has yet to affect me. It is something I have to keep in mind.

So, not only is everyone a threat, but _everything _is a threat, too.

Before I can do anything, I have to take stock of everything that I have. Opening my pack, I study everything that I have. A bedroll, two bottles of water, some dried fruit and the left over bomb making supplies, all crammed into a pack. The bomb making parts are hardly useful any longer; they can't be eaten, and I've already shown my hand when it comes to using the trick again. As offensive weapons, they're great, but in terms of defense, it doesn't help me much.

From the look of the wound in my leg, I know one thing: the sooner this ends, the better off I will be. I haven't any medicine, and soon the wound has already begun to get infected. Without medicine, I will not last long and I cannot afford to count on sponsors for the things I truly need. The only person that I can rely on is myself. In order to ensure that this time line suits my leg, I must make another plan and execute it myself.

I've tried to keep track of the other tributes, but I can't be sure that I'm right. I know that the remaining careers are Esther, Ahlyce, and Azure. I think that the girl from Nine and the boy from Eleven are left as well, but do not know anything of their skills. The common saying is to go with what you know; I know about the Careers, so that is where I must strike again.

Another bomb attack is out of the question. Not only do they know about that strategy, but I've also discovered that my aim is very poor. That means that my best option is to create a trap of some sort and lure them into it. From where I'm situated in a narrow canyon, it has potential. I have to do it.

I have to do it.

But first, in order to do it, I have to get up. I have to get up and look around and see what I have work with.

I have to do it.

I have to get up and move.

I have to do it.

I finally manage to force myself to my feet, and pain radiates through my leg. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I walk around the narrow canyon and try to get a feel for things. I start creating a picture in my mind of what it would take to create a trap. Naturally, it involves all sorts of things that I do not have: wire and gears and conveyor belts. Instead, I'm stuck with next to nothing.

Still, I do the best I can do rig something up. The trap isn't the most brilliant thing I've ever heard of, but it's better than doing nothing. The Gamemakers haven't sent anything after me just yet, so I imagine that means that they're smiling and wondering what I'm going to come up with. Maybe if I keep them entertained enough, if I can just be interesting enough, they'll leave me alone. Still, I make a note to try to be more interesting; strategy is important, and being interesting is a huge part of that strategy.

I strip the supportive wire out of the sides of my sleeping bag. It is a thin, silvery wire that is just thick enough to give the sleeping bag some support; it will do just fine for what I need it to do. The hardest part of my plan still remains. The trip wire has to be rigged to a lever higher up on the side of the canyon wall, which will pull something down on top of my remaining explosives, sending the rocks down on top of the people standing underneath.

It takes me only one minute to realize the huge flaw in my plan: it involves climbing. My plan involves climbing and I have a hole in my thigh. I look down my leg again, forcing myself to stare at the red, inflamed flesh This morning when I awoke, there was green pus oozing form the hole; I drained it and did the best I could do ignore the smell. Now, I'm fairly certain that trying to climb the side of this canyon is not going to make this feel any better.

Pushing myself away from the wall, I stand at the bottom and look up, studying the best way for me to get to the shelf that I need to reach. There are a series of outcropping that look like they might make good handholds on the climb up. With a deep breath, I grab the first handhold and push off with my uninjured leg.

Before now, I had never considered how heavy I am. I know that comparatively speaking, I'm one of the lighter men in the Arena, but that means nothing now that I'm trying to pull myself up the side of the damn canyon wall. My arms won't hold the weight of my body and before I know it, I'm lying flat on my back, staring up at the blue, blue sky and trying to breathe past the pain radiating through my ribs and back.

"Damnit," I swear quietly, as I stare back up at the wall.

I have to try again, though I question my chance for success. I didn't have all my strength when I attempted it the first time, and now I am not feeling any better. Still, I persevere and make another attempt. I get higher this time and manage to pull myself onto one of the larger outcroppings before I have to stop and take a break. I'm only a few feet from the place to rig my lever. If I stretch out on the ledge, I can just reach it.

My hands are shaking, both with nervousness and a touch of exhaustion, and try as I might, I can't get them to stop. It takes me longer than it really should to rig such a simple lever, but I can't help it. Finally I get it in place so that when the string is pulled, the lever will be pulled and a rock will fall onto the explosives and crush them. Once the explosion goes off, the rocks will fall and crush the people below. Perfect. Now I only need to lure them in.

I've heard Azure calling my name. Last night, I heard it loud and clear and it wasn't the voice of a sane person. There was a hard, slightly maniacal edge to his screaming. Of course, only an insane person would be screaming in the middle of the night—or at all, really—to give away their position. Now that his girlfriend is dead, he sounds like he has lost all grip on reality—and he clearly blames me for that. I smile as I realize that it should be nothing to lure him into the trap.

After a deep breath, I call his name and there's no going back.

"Azure!"

My voice is startlingly loud, despite the fact that I was prepared for it. It reverberates off the canyon walls, making it sound dozens of times louder than it really is. I wonder if this will interfere with the Career's ability to find me.

"Azure! I know you're looking for me! Come on, this is your big chance!"

There is no response, only the sound of the wind whistling in the canyons.

"I know I killed your girlfriend! Don't you want your big chance at revenge? Come on, Azure!"

This time, I can hear a human voice in the distance. It's distorted and I can't quite make out what they're saying, but there is no doubt in my mind that it's Azure. He's the only one—to my knowledge—that is so far gone that they don't care about making a scene. And in any case, he seems to be the only one that cares about killing me personally. I can't vouch for the others, but logic would dictate that since I have done nothing to them that they would have little cause for a vendetta against me.

"Riden, you son of a bitch! Where the fuck are you?"

This time the message is closer and more clear; I can distinctly discriminate that it is Azure's voice. I flatten my body on the ledge, just raising myself up on my elbows enough to watch for my incoming visitor. I can't guarantee that the whole Career pack would come with him, but it seems a logical conclusion. They've stuck together so far, and with only three of them left, there seems no point in them splitting up.

"Come find me!" I call back. The short response is only going to anger him. As a general rule, people who are angry—who think with their feelings—miss clues in their surroundings. Hopefully, but enraging him, he's less inclined to notice the trip wire until it's too late.

"You're not gonna give me more than that? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were scared!"

Again, his voice is closer. I can't be certain, but he sounds like he's in the main canyon, just a ways down from where my smaller canyon branches off. The rumble of other voices tells me that he's brought along company. It's okay. I had anticipated that.

"Does it hurt, Azure? Being alone? Being without your little whore?" I can't know for certain—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that they were actually having sexual relations, but based on her responses during the interviews and his responses here, it seems a plausible assumption. I have also found—through observation, not practice—that men do not take kindly to people referring to their women as whores.

"She was no whore!" His response is immediate and again, closer. I can now clearly hear the voices of his companions.

"Azure, you know that this is a terrible idea. This has "trap" written all over it," one of the girls tells him.

"Hell, we oughta let him get his ass killed. Easier for us," another girl replies. I cannot distinguish them based on their voices.

"Ahlyce! Stop that." Ahlyce—from District 8—is the cantankerous one. That's not surprising, especially after seeing her interview. That means that the other must be Esther. She seemed sweet in her interview…I wonder if it is just an act or if she really does care. Either way, it doesn't matter. For me to win, she has to die.

"Stop what? It's true. This is a big trap, and he's gonna get our asses killed or maimed!"

"Shut up!" Azure yells at her. "Riden! Come out, you coward! Too scared to face me? I'll grind your bones to make my fucking bread!"

"Really? How very impressive!" I call back. From his voice, I can tell that they've made it to my small canyon. Instead of giving away my position, I flatten my body to the floor of the ledge and continue to yell. "It's not going to bring her back, you know!"

His loud, angry footsteps echo off the walls of the canyon, and I can hear the sounds of scuffling. I wonder if the girls are trying to hold him back, to keep him from charging straight ahead into my trap. Still, footsteps get closer and closer.

"Maybe not, but you'll be gone and I'd say that's an improvement!"

I don't dare to speak for fear that they'll figure out where I'm hiding. If I had more time, I would have considered a hiding place with a better escape route because they realize that I'm trapped on this ledge, it becomes a waiting game and I'm fairly certain that they have more supplies than I do. If it becomes a waiting game, I'll lose for sure.

Their footsteps continue to get closer, and I focus on the lever that I've rigged just a few feet from me. Suddenly, it is pulled loose, dropping the rock onto the glass bulb. A deafening explosion rips through the air, and I feel it to my core. The force of the explosion blows me clear off my ledge and I'm falling, falling, falling. I my back hits the canyon floor with a painful thump, leaving me looking up at the sky above me.

But it isn't blue sky above me. Instead, it's a wall of falling rock. Falling rock, and I'm caught right underneath it. Pain tears through my body as the rocks fall all around. It doesn't seem possible for something to hurt _this _much. It's indescribable; white-hot and burning and there's pressure and it won't _stop _and there's dust and the rocks are still coming, still coming, still coming.

The rocks stop falling.

I'm still breathing.

The dust begins to settle.

I'm still breathing.

Never did I think that there would be a downside to breathing, but I have been proven wrong. Amazing. Each breath that I draw sends a fresh wave of nauseating pain through my chest and I have to fight the urge to vomit. When I try to force myself into a sitting position, I find that I can't manage it, both physically and mentally.

Someone is coughing. From my limited vantage point, I look around and notice three shadows approaching me; as they draw closer, I recognize them as the remaining Careers. They all look worse off than they did in the beginning—but then who doesn't? Esther and Ahlyce stay back, but Azure continues to approach me until he's kneeling beside my head.

"You didn't really think that we would fall for that again, did you?" he whispers, patting me on the chest. I try and fail to bite back a moan. "You know what Tinny said to me when I had to leave her? When she calmly told me that I had to go and that she had to stay and that I didn't get to be with her anymore? You wanna know what she said?"

I try to shake my head, only realize what a terrible idea that is.

"You know what? You don't deserve to know. You took her away from me, so you don't get to know. But I killed you. I killed you, and I'm going to win, and she'll be so proud of me. So proud of me. I have to make sure she's proud of me," Azure whispers, and I can see the madness through the tears in his eyes. Its strange, my own eyes are dry—not a single tear to be shed.

He gives me an appraising look as he rises to his feet. "Your own trap did the work. All we had to do was trigger it. Seems fair to me."

"H-how?" I gasp. They triggered it and didn't get caught in the trap. I need to know. I need to know so that I can fix the next one.

"Ahlyce is a pretty good shot," he whispers. "I guess she's gotta go next, but for now, she was useful. She was useful and now you're dead. You're dead. Dead, dead, dead."

And then they walk off and leave me alone.

My legs are still burning, though there is no fire, and I know that it must be some sort of complicated neural response to being crushed. But even as my legs continue to burn and my breathing continues to hurt, I feel a cold puddle forming underneath me. The smell of blood and something else fills the air. It takes me a moment—several moments—to figure out what the smell is, and yet another to accept it. The ground beneath me is stained with blood and piss. How humiliating.

Then it hits me. Really hits me.

I'm dying.

I'm _dying. _

_I'm _dying.

I am going to die, and I'm going to do it in a puddle of piss and blood.

I didn't ask for this. I wasn't like those idiots who volunteered, who thought that this was going to be a glamorous game and that I would come out of it smelling like roses. I never wanted to be part of it, and I got dragged in and now I'm dying in a puddle of blood and piss and it all hurts so much that I can't fucking stand it.

Night begins to fall over the arena and I can't see anything anymore. My last sight won't even be the pretty blue sky or the red, red rock.

It's not fair.

With my dying breath, I whisper.

"It's not fair."

* * *

**Author's note: Thank you so much to Definitely_Not_a_Chipmunk for getting on to me about updating. I'm really sorry, guys. Graduate school is killing me. Thankfully, I'm on break now, so I'm going to try to get this finished quickly for you.  
**

**Question: What has been your favorite part of the Games so far? It can be a moment between the characters, a costume in the chariot rides, a challenge in the arena. What's been your favorite?  
**


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